"You Better Work, Bit, er uh..Mom"
Have you ever
heard the song by Brittney Spears, "You Better Work, Bitch"? I
can't say that in my current set of circumstances that I can relate to her
lyrics..."You wanna drive a Maserati? You wanna party in
France?"...on & on with other questions about doing wonderful
things on various continents and driving additional exorbitantly priced
Italian cars.
Great Brittney. You go do that, Brittney. You better work, Bit..rittney.
But I find myself singing along. Yes, I better work, bitch. I am
immediately reminded of the conversation with my husband the previous night
regarding work and how I should work additional hours, more...blah,
blah...things...more.blah. life...blah blah. What honey? Of course I want
to work until I am 85 or maybe even longer. Maybe whatever
retirement community I end up in will let me work full time there? Or if one of
the kids still pays attention to me, they will visit me when I have vacation
time. Whatever it takes to? I don't even know what I said. I tuned out
and just wanted to go to bed at that point; so I could be fresh to start the
next work day.
Back to the song. I just picked up my 13 year old daughter from Soccer
practice and the song comes on the stereo. Of course she knows all of
the words and she smiles awkwardly at me when the word "bitch" comes
up, like she is getting away with armed robbery.
Brittney is belting it out: "You wanna drive a Lamborghini? ..."
Party in France...You wanna a tight body? You better work, bitch."
I started singing along with Brittney, but with subtle changes..."You
wanna go to Publix? Pay for your car insurance? You wanna drive a Chevrolet
Equniox? Have a support bra for your saggy boobies...you better work,
bitch."
My daughter looked at me like I had lost my mind and replied, " Oh my gosh,
you sound just like a suburban mom!"
You think?
We both laughed and then she tried to coerce me into getting her a $7.00
Smoothie because she had to run laps at practice. ???
No hint of logic to be found.
"You better work, baby".
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