If you trust Webster and use "bitch" in a context not referring to animals, "bitch" is defined as an unpleasant woman. If you trust those annoying T-shirts they sell at surf shops, "bitch" is defined as Babe In Total Control of Herself. If you trust your instincts, "bitch" is the stunningly beautiful woman you pass in the street with a sense of cool detachment in her eyes and a body that says, "I know you're looking at me, and it amuses me."

This bitch is me or that version of me you might glimpse from the other side of the street. There's a lot you can't see from that side of the street. You can't see my intelligence or my strength. You can't see my political opinions or my disregard of authority. I have no standing in society and I don't particularly want one. I can't cook. I read Ayn Rand. I break hearts because I can, not because I really want to. I end sentences with prepositions. How's that for bitchy?

My mother was said to be a bitch. She was the wrong kind of bitch: stupid, irresponsible, slutty, mean. She got by on her good looks, but even that couldn't give her the kind of power I have. She was weak.

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