Damn right I know my axle’s cracked.

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Nothing makes a lady feel like a woman more than walking into a repair shop and telling the man behind the counter what’s wrong with her car. She feels so good and so baaad. I had the pleasure of this experience during my last trip to the mechanic. I knew the man behind the counter thought he smelled blood in the water just as soon as he laid eyes on me. “Oh yeah, here’s a live one,” said the seedy-eyed man, his brain swirling with the sheer number of “issues” he could tell me my car had.

Not this time. See, I had already gone to another shop and had them diagnose the problems. I also had a knowledgeable friend tell me what he saw (as well as what was imaginary in the first mechanics’ mind) so I was pretty savvy strutting into the second shop. I walked up to the counter and listed what I knew to be the issues, exactly what my car needed. And, because I guess I’ve got some diva lurking inside of me, I saved the best for last.

“Oh yeah, and my axle is cracked on the driver’s side. It’s slight. I know I need to fix it, but that won’t be today.”

I have accomplished quite a bit in my life, but there are few times I’ve felt so empowered. Being a lady does not mean being a mindless princess. Ladies demand respect. And damn it I got it.

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