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Zero Fucks Given

I’m not going to tell you to fuck off, but there have been times when the f-word is the only one that makes sense. Particularly when I’m ranting against, say, an internet troll of the highest disorder. Or when I’m recalling actual words said to me.

I know, too, it isn’t the most, erhm, elegant thing to write, but sometimes it fits. Most especially when I’m writing my specific conversational thoughts. There are times when I deliberately choose not to use fuck, as in a love letter I wrote last week to my late mother.

When I left my last newsroom, my fellow reporters gave me a dummy front page, describing the scandalous reasons that prompted me to go to the Dark Side. In addition to a picture of me as a sexy roller derby queen (I am not. A roller derby queen, that is. Sexy is in the eye of the beholder.) and a pull-out box of the Top 10 Heatherisms. Every single one involved the word fuck. Because it’s a beautiful word. Really, it is.

Number one was Fuckity fuckfuck.

I rarely use fuckity fuckfuck anymore, because my current job doesn’t lend itself to such crass displays. But here, on @medium, when I’m writing about my life? Fuck plays a fairly prominent role. It’s not that I don’t have other words to use, but sometimes a good, hard, FUCK is just the thing I need.

And sometimes? No fucks necessary.

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