The positive power of cursing

Today I was thinking about how much I love expletives. I know most people don’t find it ladylike to curse. That or it’s just not holy. Well fuck that. It relieves stress and improves mood and I love myself enough to give my body what it needs. If you don’t believe me, there are numerous scientific studies proving this to be true. Still don’t buy it? Well you can perform a scientific experiment of your own.

Here’s what you’ll need:

  1. A pinky toe 

  2. A dresser

Now, go slam your baby toe into the corner of the dresser and say, “darn”. Nothing will happen. Your toe will pound and your soul will shrivel up and die a little. However, if you yell “Mother fuck fuck fuck!” really loud, you can actually feel the pain drain from your toe and your heart will smile with gratitude. That’s true shit.

My parents didn’t really curse all that much that I remember. No, I remember learning my curse words from the twins who lived in the house behind me. Their names were Kim and Becky – they were my age, and they knew all the good curse words; the words with a serious stigma associated with them. Words that grown men only used sparingly, Kim and Becky would holler freely from their back yard. Not only did I learn every curse word in the English language, and some in Spanish, but I also learned the therapeutic value of cussing – a priceless lesson I will never forget.  Thank you ladies.

That being said, I do realize that it’s not always appropriate to curse. In these instances, I’ve adapted to create my own curse words out of regular words. People still get the gist, but since I’m not technically saying a bad word then I can’t get in trouble. I’ll give you a for instance.

My boss’s last name is Berk. He is the source of most of the stress I experience in a day and has his very own pseudo-curse word in his honor. One day, after he’d bugged me for about the 27th time, I finally lost my shit. A coworker asked what was the matter and I told her I couldn’t get any work done because I’d been getting Berked in the ass all day. Because no one likes this man, the term really caught fire. Now, getting Berked has become standard work vocabulary while at the same time fulfilling the need to release pressure without actually cursing.

Some people will say I’m a hypocrite because I’m such a spiritual person, yet I love to cuss. Well guess what. I don’t think Jesus is mad at me. If anything, I think he’s on board with it. Good for your health? Check. Relieves stress? Check. Hurts no one? Check. See? Jesus-approved.

What I love more than anything in this world is to hear someone cuss that never ever cusses, especially if it’s a really bad word. This makes me happier than a pile of kittens. I have a coworker who is the purest, nicest man I have ever met. He’s not judgy though, so I feel a certain amount of freedom to say what’s on my mind with him, but I do try to keep it PG. One day, while bitching about Berk, I said, “that guy is a real butthole!”. My coworker looked at me, fidgeted sheepishly with his notebook, and whispered, “Yeah. Yeah. He really is a mother fucker”.

Well I lost all control and fell out of my chair laughing. It was one of those laughs that I couldn’t contain or stop no matter what I did. The more I laughed, the more he laughed. Soon others came along, laughing at the fact that we were laughing. Berk showed up. He began to laugh, which just made us laugh ten times harder. This went on for about ten minutes, but the benefits lasted the rest of the day. It had been a terrible Monday for everyone, but after that the atmosphere was bright and happy, and all because one little man reached down deep in his soul and pulled out the word mother fucker. He changed lives that day, and that, my friends, is what I call holy.