I wear lightning strikes on my hips and thighs as battle scars to remind me who I am, and what I have overcome.

I bear legion lines up and down the open plains of my arms to show that I am not afraid of war, and that I have won time and time again. 

I may not be feminine, 

Or lithe, 

Or thin, 

And I may be built, 

And muscled,

And thick around my everywhere, 

But I am a warrior, I am the queen of the Amazons, I am a Spartan.

And that makes me the hottest damn woman alive. 

I will not bend, I will not snap like a twig at the slightest pressure.

I will fight like the Helvetians, who burnt their own towns to say, “We will never come back.”

I am Casticus, I am Orgetorix, I am Caesar in the Gallic Wars

But I am stronger than all of them because I have one thing more-

I am a woman, and a warrior too.

I will dish out frozen-over Hell to anybody who tells me I am less, 

Because revenge is a dish best served with a nice cold can of whoop-ass. 

And while sticks and stones can certainly break my bones, 

Angry words will never even touch me.

For I will shoot them down with arrows of flaming confidence and poison intellect, 

And they will crash and burn at your feet. 

For I am a woman first, a warrior second, and never, ever a slave to anybody.