I used to blame dropping the F bomb on my Austrialian co-workers. They used to say f.u.c.k. like others say "hello, you look pretty." It was smooth. sweet. and oh, so complimentary. I don't work there anymore. I still say, well, you know that very bad word.
The truth is, I have the mouth of a sailor, probably something I inherited from my father, who was actually a sailor and as logic would dictate, quite literally had the mouth of a sailor.
I have two young children. I am a yoga teacher. I am a Girl Scout troop leader. I am a volunteer everywhere. I am a Christian. I go to church. I go to bible study. And I write about faith. And I pray. I pray all the time.
I still cannot stop it with that word and many other related words that would get my mouth washed out with soap if my Nana was still alive and kicking.
I am quite sure I am offensive.
And shouldn't I, the mother who accidently taught her child the word "untenable", have a better word to describe the most fucked-up shit that can happen?
Opps. There it goes.
The fact is, sometimes there are no other words. Sometimes, there simply is not anything else that can be said. Sometimes things are just that vulgar and I am just that irate. Sometimes, I have no discipline.
And that my friends is the fudgesicle truth.
See, I am already rehabilitating myself. One F word at a time.