…or I will wash your mouth out with soap

Today I am going to hate on a group that would definitely accuse me of hating, because accusing people of hating is what they do. 

Girls.  Specifically girls in the 12-14 year-old age group.  Specifically the ones that go to The Destroyer’s school. 

Attention, ladies, I am aware of how awkward and weird that you feel in your bodies. I understand that you want to be liked.  I also understand that you are nothing but hair and hormones. I get that you want to be grown.

Alas, you are not grown.  You really are still children.  Dropping f-bombs every other word is not necessary. Why?  Because F-bombs are reserved for grown people problems

This is a discussion that my sister and I had the other day. Unless you have a seriously messed up childhood, at thirteen, you really have no reason to say the F-word. You are fed, clothed, housed, chauffeured, and generally catered to within your parents’ ability. Your education is still free (for you, anyway) and your metabolism is still high. Even if you mess up at school enough to get kicked out, homelessness isn’t a worry for you; getting kicked out of work, however, is a different story. So yeah, all in all, no real reasons for f-bombs. Especially since you think it’s cute to scream it at the top of your lungs.

No, hon. THESE are reasons for f-bombs:

1. Overdraft fees.
2. Eviction notices.
3. Having your car backed into and finding out the other driver has no insurance. You know this because the other driver fled the scene.
4. Realizing the only thing you have left to eat for dinner is Ramen. And you already had Ramen for lunch.
5. Locking your keys in a running car.
6. Dropping your baby.
7. Your crazy in-laws pull into your driveway. Even if you invited them.
8. Your transmission goes out the day after your warranty expires.
9. Your health insurance premiums go up. Again.
10. Realizing you might have to move back in with your parents. Or they might have to move in with you.

See, girls. You really don’t have it that bad. Clean it up a little bit. BTW, a couple of these things HAVE happened to me, and I didn’t even drop the f-bomb then. But then, I’m just a decrepit old woman.

And stop hitting on my son. He’s only twelve and the poor thing already has a crazy mother. He doesn’t need a crazy mother in prison. You have been warned.

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3 thoughts on “…or I will wash your mouth out with soap

  1. Amen, Sister! Wait, did I forfeit my rights to assemble with you when I joined the 12 year old f-bomb dropping club at my middle school a few decades ago? I would hope you could cut me some slack. I had private school kid syndrome. We were automatically many cool points behind when we hung out with the rest of the kids in the world. In my defense,
    it was a lot of work over coming the “good girl” stigma!

    Love the post! And I hate the way girls these days chase after our sons.

    1. Yeah, my husband was a private school kid, so slack has been cut. Good kid stigma is real in these streets! Thanks for reading!

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