Waking Up Sleeping Bitchy…

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So, it goes like this . . .


I feel a gentle shake on my shoulder this morning. “Honey, time to wake up. ‘The boy’s’ soccer game. We’ve got to get up.”

I hear my son call in the background. “I have to kiss your mother first,” my husband says.

“Are you going to kiss me, and dare to wake up Sleeping Bitchy?” I give a little smirk with my eyes still closed. I can hear him giggle near my face.

“Come on, kiss me already! Sleeping Bitchy has to get moving,” my eyes still closed with a full smile on my face.

I can feel him hovering over me… deciding… “should I wake this sleeping beauty, or let this sleeping dog lie?”

“Kiss me, dammit!”

Still nothing.

“You’re a pooter,” I say and he starts to laugh.

“Maybe, it’s like waking up sleeping whiny!” he says.

“Whatever, just kiss me already.”

So, alas, the Prince, Sir Dick-a-lot places a speculative kiss of aggravation on the perturbed lips of the impatiently waiting Sleeping Bitchy.

And, then, as if by magic, she opens and flutters her mascara stained eyes that have sort of glued together due to the ridiculously expensive eye cream that she smoothed around her orbs the night before after she hugged her irritated teenagers good night when they responded with the entitled arrogance of the times.

Sleeping Bitchy is so proud…


So we can understand Sir Dick-a-lot’s reticence, can’t we?

His perception is — There she lies, the freaking “queen.”

Sleeping Bitchy/Whiny/(fill in the blank…).

Hair a-flounced, static electricitied into a blond fuzz. The right side of her delicate wisps cemented to the concave of her cheek.

So attractive… Sleeping Bitchy is…


AND, yet… he kissed me with “wake up” breath.

Sir Dick-a-lot, you are so brave!

My face swollen with a sleepy bloat, as if to defy gravity…

And yet…

He still kissed… this maiden of the dreams… me, Sleeping Bitchy.


Could this be love?

Does the Prince, Sir Dick-a-lot actually love Sleeping Bitchy?

Despite the trappings of the daily wake-up process?

Despite sleepy dead mouth?

Despite smoochy mascara goo-ed eye glomps?

Despite the hair fanned across the pillow and bonded to the right side of my face with virile tenacity?

And… yet…

He still kissed me…

Sleeping Bitchy…

Yes, this must be love…

And, I wake up, like it is a suprise to be awake! I am awake! Sleeping Bitchy is now awake!

I give Sir Dick-a-lot a grateful hug, drink some of my left-over tea from the night before and …

Then I scream, “Where’s my freaking tiara?”

The day has begun…

Be well,


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S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK – An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
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About SheriBelle

Award-Winning Author & Screenwriter

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