“I’m the alpha bitch,” my boyfriend’s mother announced over my cell phone as I stood on a street corner in my native New York City. I was late, and my feet hurt from hustling my cheap heels around the Garment District, previewing spring clothes when it was 20 degrees outside. I was an independent young woman, a fashion journalist, and my boyfriend’s mother had called me from Orange County just to talk. Again.
“Yup. You’re the alpha