Seeing a good excuse to put on a dress and go downtown, I went to a women's book group last night.
Three homeless dudes and the world's oldest man on the train cannot be wrong: This IS a great dress.
Full disclosure, I felt like a bit of an intruder since the group overseeing the book group is focused on women in tech. Another disclosure: Going to hang out with professional women seemed like a better idea than setting myself on course to fall down a Tinder hole to meet people. I received a Tinder message this week that said, “when we gonna do some lovin?” It’s a step up from, “you look like the type of woman who likes to be thrown up against a wall and fucked.”
Not really the opener for a gal like me, but weed your garden, bro. Weed it.
So there I was, with the tech women, but grateful that there were also some other non-techies there, like a PR consultant and a woman working on her seventh start-up. (Some may call that moxie, I’ll call it balls.)
The reading selection was “#Girlboss” by Sophia Amoruso, founder of Nasty Gal, which for anyone who knows me even casually offers clarity on why this particular meeting jumped out to me. A board member at my previous employer gifted me a copy last fall, saying that I reminded her of the author in many ways. Being a whore for compliments, a sucker for hashtags, and a bit of a rebel, I was excited to check out the story of this unique entrepreneur and mega success story.
And yes, I jumped on the Nasty Gal site immediately and drooled over the vintage.
Obviously, Sophia was cool, but I also identified with a lot of what she was saying. We misfits are like that. The message that being weird is okay—I could have used that thousands of moons ago. The reminder to look for opportunities in failure and to let go of the people, places, and things that may be holding you back. The notion to quit obsessing about what the rest of the world is doing and follow your own path.
The book group got off course, as book groups do, but I appreciated the networking and discussion. As we were wrapping up, the moderator brought the discussion back to the book by posing the question, “How do you define a #girlboss?”
Last night, that question soaked into my brain in a professional context. A girl boss moves through fear, asks questions, doesn’t apologize for being assertive, knows how to pick her battles, and gets a seat at the table.
I AM WOMAN. HEAR ME ROAR.
I MOVE MOUNTAINS.
I AM THE MOTHER OF DRAGONS.
Today, my personal girl boss was challenged. The phone buzzed and it was one of those texts that hits hard, you feel drop in your stomach, and get a little angry. And even though it’s never easy to separate the truth from the lies, it sucks when the past starts in with you again. It's that line from Magnolia, “We might be through with the past, but the past ain’t through with us.”
Apologies don’t mean much when they were never backed with any action. And I know I’m a catch. That’s why I’m not your doormat.
The Ghost of 2014 ain’t wrecking today, kids. You know when I’ll get another August 6, 2016?
Never.
It’s unfortunate that you’re unhappy and sick, but I cannot participate in some revision of a sick life I used to live. I’m not that woman anymore. I get to write my own story.
Every. Damned. Day.
I get to pick.
I decide where I spend my time and with whom I spend it.
I get to hit delete on the texts.
It doesn’t matter if the letters formed truths or lies.
Not my shit.
Not today, regrets.
Not ever.
My #girlboss may not be the Mother of Dragons, but I am the Mother of Bitches, and whenever I leave them I tell them, “I love you as high as the sun rises and as far as the sky stretches.” My personal #girlboss is extending that same courtesy inward.
I hope you can someday, too.