I have a lot of people fooled because many are under the assumption I’m a sweet and kind person who probably doesn’t swear or even gossip. Boy are those people mistaken. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying I’m a total bitch or anything, although I know some who disagree. You’ll meet them later.

I think I’m a decent human being. But if you continually aggravate me, all bets are off. And swearing? If you were a fly stuck in my car, you’d raise your eyebrows (if flies had eyebrows) with what emerges from these thin lips of mine as I rant over perceived inept drivers.

Let me out! This woman is crazy

And gossip? Guilty as charged. To demonstrate, I’ll quote a line from the movie, Steel Magnolias…

Yes friends, I admit I love me some juicy gossip.

So there you have it. I’m not always sweet and kind. And last week I proved it. Was it a full moon? Was Mercury in retrograde? Was I delirious from hunger? No, no and no. It’s simple: I finally reached emotional maturity. And how do I know this? Because, except for my friends, I no longer care what others think of me.

Yes, the phrase, couldn’t care less, is one I never uttered when I still possessed collagen. But those days of wanting everyone to like me are over. It’s just about the only perk associated with getting older. Seriously, name another.

For example, there’s a group of men at my tennis club who’ve been there for ages. They know our club rules like they know their wives. Yet they’re notorious for continually ignoring those rules, specifically when it pertains to women players. RULE: When another court is available, incoming players must allow 15 extra minutes to a team currently playing on the desired court.

A simple rule to understand, wouldn’t you agree? Yet, this particular group of older men continue to take the court from us. Not from the men players, mind you, just women players. Why, you ask? Because they can. We female types generally don’t like confrontation, nor to be perceived as bitches. So we let stuff slide.

Last week it happened to my foursome one too many times and I said, ENOUGH! Actually I said everything BUT that. I wouldn’t shut up. Those poor old guys looked as though a geriatric female just streaked in front of them — their mouths hung open, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, slightly horrified. In a word, it was…

I ranted, “You guys always do this to us. I’m heading to the clubhouse to check court availability and if you signed up prematurely (again), we’re taking our court back for the 15 minutes owed us.” Miraculously, they backed down. Still, they couldn’t resist complaining. One asked, “What’s the big deal?” Another said, “Don’t get so worked up about it.”

Don’t mess with me when I’m on a roll and have lost my tolerance for chauvinistic tennis players who count on getting their way with us (so to speak). I was like that anchorman in the movie, Network, who yells,

I think my 3 tennis friends were stunned to witness sweet, kind Janet not being sweet and kind.

But you know what? I seriously doubt those men will ever again take a court that I’m on — even if my time on it is actually up! I’m probably feared now. Don’t you just love it? No doubt I’ll henceforth be referred to as “The Bitch.”

But now that I couldn’t care less, I shall wear the name with pride.

Previously posted in 2017. And since then, I’ve never been kicked off a court prematurely.