"Heartless Bitch" rings in my ears as a second name. It is the reason I stand up and proclaim with a clenched fist that NO I do not in any way, shape, or form desire a house in the suburbs, a white picket fence, a two car garage, or an olympic size swimming pool.

No, I do not hang out around country clubs in a lame attempt to pick up rich men (or even pool boys for that matter).

But I suppose the first and foremost reason that I would like to be accepted as a Heartless Bitch is because I'm tired or telling people that I'm not a little girl, I'm not a baby, and I don't need to be sheltered, If you want to protect me buy me "The Club" and a bottle of mace for Christmas and trust that I'll know how to use them without detailed instruction on my own.

Yes! I want to read more from Real Life Heartless Bitches

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