My Love of the F Bomb

After years of watching what I say, and always remembering that a “lady never swears”… i had an impression that when I walked through the doors of Foreign Affairs that my inner potty mouth would have to remain in my head.

I heard nothing but fabulous long words, and intellectual discussions my first week, I thought I somehow stumbled on the most uptight workplace, and wanted to escape. Can you imagine, dry, and boring, but at least the subjects were anything but boring.

I walked into the boardroom, my boss was sitting already motioning for me to sit beside him. The rest of our colleagues filed in, and then the meeting began. Things began to heat up, arguments started to fly across the room, faces were red, and voices were rising. It just kept going, so polite and eloquent, and then, a voice in the corner “F*&# this, what a cockamamie load of crap.” everyone laughed, and the F bombs were being dropped every second word. Genius!

So it began, my inner potty mouth unraveled faster than a speed of lightning. The freedom, the passion, yes there was a time and place for it, but it was so fantastic to actually be able to swear in 4 languages and no one blinked or judge.

My boss called the F bomb the best word in the english language, in any closed-door meeting or negotiation, muttering it while smiling made negotiations go well, or so he said.

Dropping the F bomb along with running, seems to unleash whatever pent-up anger I have, I sometimes sit in the washroom or closet away from my son and let out a tirade of F bombs he can’t hear, absolutely brilliant.

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