Thursday, July 12, 2007
Fook Fook Fook
So, I went climbing last weekend. Did a 5.10 crack that I have done many times and was never able to do, but did it this time. It was great. (Following, but still...). But it was really strenuous and I really wanted to make it so at the cruz I was grunting "Fook Fook Fook" and "Fook me" (too lazy to use asterisks and don't want an X rating on my blog). My swearing is coming back.
There was a time when I had the most horrendous potty mouth. When I first started climbing I would litter the air around me with swear words. Children would get an education their parents would not want them to have (though I did TRY and control myself if I knew there were children around.) I was an angry young woman, and the rock was my enemy - something to be conquered. I am not one to give up easily, so I would swear all the way up something difficult.
It wasn't just climbing either. I would do it anywhere. Sometimes in places where you really didn't want to be doing that or saying a particular phrase - my catchphrase was 'fook me'. I visited a friend in Rural, Nowhere and we went to a bar with pool tables and bikers and mullets and such. He and I played pool, and as I am also very competitive, if I did a bad shot, I would exclaim 'Fook me'. I think I said it twice and my friend wisely said, 'um, you might not want to say that here because someone might take it as an invitation or a command' - I looked around the bar and realized I did not want that so I switched to another swear word.
Over time I lost some of my anger and also realized I didn't want to have a potty mouth, so I switched to dagnabit and something else that I can't remember, and holy crap. In part it was because my husband never swore and so I wanted to be a good girl for him. So it worries me a little that the swearing is coming back. I'm sure there's some anger, and with respect to my husband's needs, I don't really give a shit. But I gotta stop it because I want to stop it, and I do... dammit. :-)
And, by the way, the rock is not my enemy. It is my friend and teacher. But more on that later.
For those who embrace their potty-mouth-ness.