It is a favorite characteristic of mine. I am a natural, and I have been bossy since I was in diapers. Many people have a problem with that, and for most of my life I have been trying to soften my direct way of expressing myself, my blunt words, and my personal strength.
We all know what it is like to try to suppress our natural way of being. And those inspirational memes, and yoga mat philosophers, all point out that we should love ourselves for who we really are, not accept criticism, be who we want to be. So finally, I am becoming more Me.
For some, bossy is a dirty word. It has so many negative connotations, as most people know what it is like to be bossed around. I do no such thing. I am a great leader, and I am proud of it. The only proof I need is knowing that people flock to me, and in almost every segment of their lives, ask me what they should do. I give great advice, and they are always grateful for it.
I inspire men and women to be more. I don’t preach, instruct or proselytize. In fact, I never offer my opinion or advice unless someone asks for it, as I have full confidence in their ability to know their jobs and know themselves.
Even when I was a child I was a great leader. I could inspire a street full of kids to skip lunch, run off to some park, jump in a lake, and have the time of their lives, and then not feel guilty when it’s time for punishment.
But like most bossy ladies, I was told to not be so bossy. It wasn’t a positive quality, and it was likely to earn me some haters, some critics, and I would be viewed as a not so pleasant person to be with. Though I never experienced hate from other children, (if they didn’t like what I was doing, they were always free to go), and people always flocked to me, I was still very much afraid of being perceived as bossy.
But who was teaching me to not be so bossy? My first critic was my father. When I was a kid, I refused to hold his hand, I could walk all of my own, I openly disagreed with his opinions even when I was four, had no problem defying him even when his voice got too loud, and his words too hurtful. It didn’t matter that he said I was a horrible daughter for defying him, that I got called a bitch before I owned my first bra, I knew who I was and my opinions always mattered to me. I was not willing to trade them in exchange for his approval.
We live in an age when women are starting to shatter that glass ceiling, and are no longer willing to pander to fragile masculinity, nor accept a more submissive role. Suddenly, it is more acceptable to have balls, even show off when ours are bigger than theirs. We live in an age when women outnumber men in the workforce, complete advanced degrees at higher rates, and are finding out that we in fact make excellent bosses. Some are still struggling with balancing their femininity with their leadership traits, but I am not.
I gave up on the balancing act, when I realized that I am very much a woman, and absolutely love it, but I also am an excellent leader, and when it is time to lead, I feel no need to prove to anyone that I am still woman. Anyone can see that just by looking at me.
I have always had balls bigger than any man I know. My only mistake was trying to hide them. I paid a heavy price for trying to downplay my power, I spent years trying to soften myself up to get along better with my parents, and fit myself into a family I was never meant to conform to. I was meant to rebel against them, so that I could be who I am today.
I married a man who was my equal, but then expected me to take a more accommodating role when we realized that two people cannot grow in the same direction when they have different career goals. Though he was quite aware of my balls, in fact he relied on my intelligence, strategy and foresight to advance his own career, he ego broke the day I made a mistake to point out my larger paycheck and bought a Porsche all on my own. That is the day our marriage ended.
Friends, therapists and family members pointed out that I emasculated him, and that I should have chosen a more feminine way to reward myself for a job well done. A pair of diamond studs would have been a more fitting way for me to celebrate my accomplishment without shattering his ego.
As soon as I separated, I embarked on a dating adventure, which turned out to be a huge learning experience. For my sheer delight, I dated all kids of beautiful creatures, and tested their perception of me in order to figure out what kind of a man could accept my success without trying to dominate me. At first, it was clear that pretty much every man was deeply interested in Me, and that I had no problem attracting whoever I want. But as soon as the relationship progressed to them seeing the trappings of my lifestyle (beautiful apartment I pay for by myself, world travel to exotic destinations, and of course the man-car sitting in my driveway), the reactions fell into one of two camps.
There were the macho men, who tried to take charge of me, and mansplain how to properly handle that Porsche. The hilarious truth was that none of those guys had actually sat in one before. Then there were the codependents who immediately saw me as their rescuer, and a relationship with me would solve all their problems. And then there were the “real men”, the guys a woman my age would never want to date, who were convinced that my problem was that I just don’t know what a “real man” is (i.e. 40″+ waist size, doughy physique, bald head, and spongy dick). The ballsy bitch that I am, I have no problem seeing through their fragile masculinity, pointing out all their shortcomings, and putting them in their place exactly where they belong.
I think my body produces an overdose of testosterone, and I could never keep it in check. I now know that I was never meant to. Over the last 6 years, I have been falling in love with who I am. First, I fell in love with my body, that body I have been neglecting and criticizing so much for years. Then I fell in love with my huge heart, and other people responded by showering me with love and affection. I fell in love with my lifestyle, and started to live as ecstatically and independently as I was always meant to.
Finally, I am falling in love with my balls. Those balls that have been making me feel ashamed of being so tough, so outspoken, so temperamental, so ambitious, so confident and so secure, are finally coming out, and I am proud. If that turns men off, perfect! I found a new way to filter the pussies out of my life.
Oddly, more men are flocking to me. Some are just here to stare. They dare not ask me out (they know what my answer is), they come close to see if I am who I claim to be. They stand on the sidelines and make comments to puff themselves up, but they dare not cross my line. My exes stand in awe of me. They are exes for a good reason. They couldn’t man up when I wanted them to stand firm, but they respect who I am as a person, and frequently state they wish they were more man for me. It is nice to have their undying, yet platonic loyalty. And of course, there are always the haters. That lowest hanging fruit no woman is competing for, who will always refer to themselves as “real men”, and boast how women just don’t know what’s good for them.
But in all honesty, I love being bossy. I am in touch with my true character, and am starting to revel in my power. That power isn’t masculine at all. Bossiness is a female characteristic, and has been since the dawn of mankind. Bossy women have always been 100% aligned with their Goddess qualities. After all, what is a Goddess? She is God. She is not lesser than God, nor submissive to God, she is God.
Does God need permission? No. Does she need approval? No. Does she need guidance from mere mortal? No. A Goddess is a woman who knows herself. She is 100% in touch with the qualities that make her God, and she revels in her being at all times. Each of us has her own qualities that make us uniquely us. I may be bossy, adventuresome, hedonistic and loving, you might be more earthy, tempestuous, knowing and deliberate. Knowing who we are, and being just that, IS the idea behind The Goddess Principles.
I am bossy. No apologies, no regrets.