Most husbands have pet names for their wives. A private little nickname chosen especially for their beloveds. Names like Sweetheart or Dear or even Babe. Those little terms of endearments that make you smile knowing that you are someone special and loved. So what does it say about me when my husband has taken to lovingly calling me Mean Ass Woman?
It sounds terrible, doesn't it? But you know what? I am a Mean Ass Woman. I like to argue. I like to be right. I don't care about wiping the floor with you in a tennis match or any other test of physical prowess. I don't even want to keep score. But, tell me I'm wrong about something and the gloves are on. I have to win. I have to drop you to the mat until the ref counts to three...or is it eight?
If I try to apply this character trait (or flaw, depending on how you look at it) to a career, the one that immediately springs to mind jumping up and down waving it's arms yelling, "Pick me! Over here!" is a lawyer. In my case, it should probably be a personal injury lawyer. Aren't those the ones with nicknames like Mean Ass Woman? At this point in my life, I really don't see myself going to law school though. I don't feel the passion stirring within when I try that dress on. It's too tight and confining. Maybe it's the shoulder pads.
I never thought about this before, but maybe something like a debate coach would be more my style. Pathetically, I don't even know what the requirements are to become a debate coach. Are debate teams even in fashion anymore or have they gone away along with bobby socks and poodle skirts? Hmm...it's something I'll have to Google. All I know is I can't continue to be just Mean Ass Woman. If you abbreviate that, I'm back to being M.A.W. which is too close to Mom for comfort.