Bitch or Byotch, What's The Diff?

Well! Thank you for clearing that up!

Some of you may wonder, where does bitchiness come from? Are you born bitchy? Does bitchiness evolve or do you wake up one morning and realize, I'm such a bitch! As always, the SJG is here to help illuminate, clarify and confuse. But first, you may wonder, why am I all up in your face today about bitchy this, and bitchy that? Why am I not focusing on all the oven-fresh goodness that life has to offered? If I knew that, I wouldn't be me. Now then. The other night, as I stepped, Capezio first, into the dance studio, I encountered a scary Dance Mom who gave new meaning to the word Bitch. My friend and I were in the hall, waiting for a class to finish on time, which they never do, because God forbid they give a crappola that there are other dancers on the planet who need to get their groove on (see what I did there? I went all bitchy without warning!). The Dance Mom opened the door of the smaller studio, so aggressively, that she nearly knocked my friend unconscious. The door came "this close" to ka-knocking her in the ka-noggin. How close? Really close. What, you think I carry around a measuring tape? I'm not an interior decorator. But I know a good one. You want measuring, call my mother-in-law. Why are you bothering me with this? 

So, as the Dance Mom barreled out, all territorial and outta my way, I channeled my overdeveloped maternal instincts, yanked my friend out of harm's way, and said, "Careful." I swear it was a very nice, "Careful," as opposed to an attitude-infused, "Careful." There was no imaginary "Bitch" at the end of my helpful statement, which, if I'm being honest, which I am most of the time, was directed more at my friend than the Entitled Dance Mom. But oy, did she give me a look. Instead of saying, "Oh, whoopsie, my bad, sorry, I apologize from the bottom of my tacky, knock-off, cheap-ass copy of an expensive running shoe,"  this raging fount of negativity said, "I didn't do it, intentionally," huffed over to the drinking fountain, flashing me the "die,bitch, die" look, stormed back into the studio and slammed the door. Really? Get a grip! And ex-squeeze me for living. But that, my friends, is a walkin', talkin' definition of bitchiness.

So, in answer to your earlier questions, bitchiness comes from deep within your messed-up psyche.  You are not born bitchy. No, you are not. Bitchniess evolves over time, due to your environment, how much bitchiness you're subjected to from an early age, and then, once hormones come into play, it's anybody's guess. You're just a time bomb of uber-bitchiness. Not that menfolk can't be bitchy, but I think they prefer another term: a-hole. "He's such an a-hole." Pretty much the same as, "She's such a bitch." Thus ends one in a series of SJG lectures on bitchniess, or if you prefer, byotchiness. You're welcome! And please, have a bitchin' day.