Friday Is My Second Favorite F Word

What do you do when the going gets tough and you need a break from the chaos? Drink wine? Exercise more? Lose yourself in gardening?

I have a short list of therapeutic methods, but outside of immersing myself in a creative activity, my preferred coping mechanism is swearing.

Sometimes I swear mentally. Mostly, I swear out loud. I almost always swear when I’m with friends, and I’m consistent about swearing on social media, if you count this blog. There were also times when my offspring was young and I swore in front of him.

(Before you judge, I can’t be the only mother who said things like I’m not your damn maid and if you don’t clean your room I’m going to burn all that shit on the floor in a bonfire and dance around the flames. If you haven’t, then you probably don’t have kids.)

Swearing is like a second language to me. It is a part of my personality, and that’s A-O-F*cking-K.

I wouldn’t say I love to swear, but there isn’t much that calms me more than releasing a string of profanities. The tension in my neck softens after muttering under my breath about the person in front of me who is driving like a f*cking idiot, and I feel satisfaction when I mentally think, “What’s you’re f*cking problem?!” after almost being rammed with a shopping cart in the grocery store.

I’m also going to admit to thinking “Shut the fuck up” when I hear a dog barking non-stop or when a toddler is having a screaming meltdown for the entire hour I’m in Home Goods. (I‘m not a heartless a$$hole and love babies and dogs. Just not when they’re continuously barking and screaming.) I also regularly say “Are you f-cking kidding me??!!” when certain friends share news that is happy, shocking, disappointing, or worth celebrating. For emphasis, I’ve been known to say a sentence, dropping F-bomb as an adjective as many times as possible.

Of course, there are always a$$holes who will say women aren’t supposed to swear or that it’s not ladylike to curse. On one hand, I don’t want to endorse the habit of swearing but on the other hand, f*ck them. I’m a growna$$ woman, and I can swear all I want, just like other growna$$ women can drink as much wine as they like, or do as much yoga as they want, or engage in any other method of self-soothing.

Now, before you ask, I can control my swearing and censor myself as necessary. I only swear in front of people I know won’t be offended. I also never swear around anyone I’ve just met, or children, or in places where it would be inappropriate, like at ladies' luncheon at a country club, when I take a bite of pasta, burn my mouth and think but don’t say, “Sonofaf-cking b-tch this sh*t is hot!!!!” 

After a mental or verbal bitch session, I feel relief that saying the words Gosh darn it! wouldn’t provide, along with a tiny amount of shame at the foulness that erupted from inside me. On occasion, I tell myself I should stop swearing, or at least take a brief break, but we all know that isn’t going to happen anytime soon.

And why should it? Swearing isn’t all bad. Studies have shown that swearing may be a sign of verbal superiority, intelligence, and creativity. There’s also evidence that it improves pain tolerance, regulates emotions, and helps people form closer relationships. I recently read an article that said swearing is an art form, which might be a stretch, but who the hell knows?

Regardless, I love to swear, and I’m not sorry about it. It’s not because I lack a better or more sophisticated vocabulary, although you might think so after reading some of the drivel posted here. It’s because nothing is quite as satisfying as a lusty, well-placed F-bomb…or five.