"The whole "bad girl" thing allows me to mess up sometimes. And I have freedom to say more of what I want to."
Being a good girl has high costs:
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- you don't say what you really want to say
- you say yes when you want to say no (and no when you want to say yes)
- you wait too long to break up with a man you no longer love because you don't want to hurt him
- you don't get what you really want (because you’re too polite to ask for it)
- you don't ask for the raise (because it's not the right time of year)
- you don't wear that top you really like (because others may think it's too revealing)
Your life is one endless session of people-pleasing.
That same "good girl" stuff follows us through life—from childhood. I know women in their 40s, 50s and 60s who are still being good girls. And, my goodness, are they miserable!
Confession: I used to be a classic good girl.
I went to private school. I was at the top of my class. I was a nerd (still am). I did what my parents told me to do. I tried to fit in. I wanted my teachers and classmates to like me. I did the "right" thing (a.k.a. what others wanted).
I was so straight-laced, the one and only time I skipped school was during my junior year. I went to the mall with a girlfriend. And, I even got caught because I was such a good girl. My mom showed up at my school to surprise me with a shopping trip—the one and only day I skipped. The surprise was on her.
Darling, life as a good girl is so restricting. One can barely breathe…not to mention it's oh so boring!
Unfortunately, being a bad girl has been tainted by people who try to control us. My idea of a "bad girl" is not someone who is unkind, promiscuous, mean to others, or lies and cheats. Instead, she is powerful. She goes against the norm. She speaks her mind and does what she wants—without hurting others. She flutters through life like a free butterfly.
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I really didn't know much about the true essence of the bad girl until my first summer in Europe. I saw bad girls everywhere…in Italy, France, the Netherlands and other countries. My own bad girl was dying to break out of the "prison of correctness" that held her captive.
Then I got my chance.