Last Saturday night I went to the birthday party of a good friend. She turned 29, and we all had a blast. Our husbands and/or significant others were all there, and it was just fabulous. We had dinner at the country club then went over to a single guy friend's house for drinks. This single guy friend is a little younger than the rest of us, but his house is not inhabited by children. It's a great place for my husband and others to break out the guitars and pick and grin.
We were having a grand time. We laughed, the men acted like men, and the girls acted like ladies. A few off-color jokes, but nothing too obscene. It was the most fun I've had in years. We sang all the great songs we grew up listening to, and a few oldies our parents made sure we learned.
Around 10:00 pm, however, a young posse of pre-schoolers waltzed in brandishing their cleavage and fishnets like super models on speed. I was taken aback to say the least. I have never heard such vulgar language spew from a the mouths of babes. And, when I say "babes" I mean youngsters, not hotties. These girls used words only sailors should utter in whispered tones. They spoke of the "old chick" at the bar they competed with for a bar stool. I wondered aloud to my mature friends, "I wonder hold old the 'old chicks' were. Perhaps 35?" I soon left feeling violated and deprived of a good, clean time.
I am writing this blog wondering, "Where have all the ladies gone?" I learned at an early age that a lady never uses foul language, and never picks a fight. I taught high school for one year, and I was astonished at how crass girls are becoming. There is no civility. Young girls lack the "mysterious ways" I was taught as an adolescent. Mama always said to leave the guy wanting just a little more. It was painfully clear what these girls wanted, and I wasn't about to set around and watch them try to lure the first available guy into something unspeakable. I'm fortunate that my husband can see this behavior for what it is -- girls with no self-respect demanding respect they don't deserve.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Southern Gent and Belle in training
As a Southern Belle, I was taught growing up in Northeast Mississippi that there are certain unspoken rules to live by. I try diligently to train my own children in these rules. My son is 6-years old and very literal in his translation. My daughter is 18-months and has only just begun learning the fine art of being a belle.
Brooks, my son, recently asked me how old I was. Being his mother, I was not offended. Actually, I am proud of my 34 years and don't mind sharing my age. However, I understand some women past a certain age do not wish for their age to be public knowledge. So, I instructed my son that it is very poor manners to ask a lady her age. One should NEVER ask a lady her age, unless one is her physician or pastor. My son takes what I say very seriously.
A few weeks later we were home in Mississippi visiting for Thanksgiving. He was tossing a small ball with my husband's aunt (yes, she is Brooks' great aunt, but she doesn't at all look like a great aunt). He said, "You're not as good at throwing as I am because you're so old. How old are you? WAIT! I'm not supposed to as an old lady how old she is! Sorry." Clearly, I still have a little work to do.
I'm hoping to have better luck with my daughter when I teach her the finer points of being a Southern Belle. She loves all things "pitty" -- her word for pretty. She loves to carry her purse in the crook of her arm while prissing around in my heels. If you ask her to show you how pretty she is, she tilts her head to one side and grins. She also likes to show off her beautiful blue eyes. I'm currently teaching her how to bat her eyelashes. ALL Southern Belles should practice this flirtatious gesture. It really will get you anything you want. Case in point, all Gwen (my daughter) as to do is bat her lashes at her daddy, and he melts. However, the time will come soon when Gwen will have to be taught humility. She is a precious little girl, but if I continue down this path she will cease to be a Southern Belle. Instead, she will become a conceited Shallow Belle.
You see, a true Southern Belle is never boastful in her beauty. She says "Thank you" to a compliment coming from a man, but always makes an excuse when the same compliment comes from a fellow belle. A Southern Belle has charm that seems effortless -- only a well-placed eyelash batting will work. Anything too forced, and the man will run. A Southern Belle is always eager to help others, even if it means getting her hands a little dirty. A Southern Belle never offers the traditional, "If you need anything, just let me know," without really meaning it. A Southern Belle is always friendly and gracious to those working in service positions (i.e. wait staff, cashiers, etc.) because a friendly face is always more pleasant to serve. And finally, a Southern Belle or Southern Gent is never suspicious of strangers. You never know if that stranger just needs a little kindness. As Scarlet says, "I've always relied on the kindness of strangers."
Brooks, my son, recently asked me how old I was. Being his mother, I was not offended. Actually, I am proud of my 34 years and don't mind sharing my age. However, I understand some women past a certain age do not wish for their age to be public knowledge. So, I instructed my son that it is very poor manners to ask a lady her age. One should NEVER ask a lady her age, unless one is her physician or pastor. My son takes what I say very seriously.
A few weeks later we were home in Mississippi visiting for Thanksgiving. He was tossing a small ball with my husband's aunt (yes, she is Brooks' great aunt, but she doesn't at all look like a great aunt). He said, "You're not as good at throwing as I am because you're so old. How old are you? WAIT! I'm not supposed to as an old lady how old she is! Sorry." Clearly, I still have a little work to do.
I'm hoping to have better luck with my daughter when I teach her the finer points of being a Southern Belle. She loves all things "pitty" -- her word for pretty. She loves to carry her purse in the crook of her arm while prissing around in my heels. If you ask her to show you how pretty she is, she tilts her head to one side and grins. She also likes to show off her beautiful blue eyes. I'm currently teaching her how to bat her eyelashes. ALL Southern Belles should practice this flirtatious gesture. It really will get you anything you want. Case in point, all Gwen (my daughter) as to do is bat her lashes at her daddy, and he melts. However, the time will come soon when Gwen will have to be taught humility. She is a precious little girl, but if I continue down this path she will cease to be a Southern Belle. Instead, she will become a conceited Shallow Belle.
You see, a true Southern Belle is never boastful in her beauty. She says "Thank you" to a compliment coming from a man, but always makes an excuse when the same compliment comes from a fellow belle. A Southern Belle has charm that seems effortless -- only a well-placed eyelash batting will work. Anything too forced, and the man will run. A Southern Belle is always eager to help others, even if it means getting her hands a little dirty. A Southern Belle never offers the traditional, "If you need anything, just let me know," without really meaning it. A Southern Belle is always friendly and gracious to those working in service positions (i.e. wait staff, cashiers, etc.) because a friendly face is always more pleasant to serve. And finally, a Southern Belle or Southern Gent is never suspicious of strangers. You never know if that stranger just needs a little kindness. As Scarlet says, "I've always relied on the kindness of strangers."
Monday, March 3, 2008
My Accent Came Rolling Back
Last Wednesday morning my husband's aunt called to say his grandfather, 94, died after suffering from Alzheimer's for about 9 years. Wisely, I bit my tongue as my husband quietly cried. I wanted to tell him that he shouldn't be sad. His grandfather was so ill, and he really lost him a long time ago. But, after 10 years of marriage and 34 years of living I realized that sometimes people, like our husbands, just need to cry without the boundaries we as wives can sometimes place on them.
So, we (when I say we, I mean I) washed laundry all day, packed bags, loaded the van, strapped in the kids and headed to Mississippi from Kentucky. We go back several times a year, but I'm always amazed how differently I feel when in my home state. I feel wiser somehow. I'm not sure what it is, but I think it has something to do with being familiar with the way people are expected to interact.
For instance, when shopping in Kentucky, people generally smile and say "excuse me," but no real conservations ever really take place in the department stores on in the check-out line -- especially if you have a toddler in the buggy (that's a shopping cart for all you Yankees). Well, I went shopping with Mama (one of the things I miss the most about living closer to family) and low and behold what would have taken 30 minutes in Kentucky took about 2 hours in Mississippi. Everybody stopped to make a fuss over my daughter (18 months) and how precious she was. She caught on, too. She would look at people as they walked by and say, "Hey!" with a grin 3 feet wide. She even said, "Hey, y'all!" a few times (at my coaxing, of course). I even found myself striking up conservations with complete strangers and feeling completely comfortable. I felt like Scarlett, "I've always taken comfort in the kindness of strangers."
However, the most unbelievable thing that happened was that my accent came rolling back. My "i's" sounded like "a's" and my sentences became so much more colorful. It felt like ice tea on a hot summer's day -- so refreshing to let go of the diction I've allowed to strip my language of color and sass.
I have a good friend that says I have an "inner Julia Sugarbaker" lurking somewhere deep inside. I believe I do. I just watched several episodes of "Designing Women" on TV Land, and Julia was a hell of a woman. Excuse my language, a Southern Belle shouldn't use such vulgarity. Anyway, after visiting Mississippi for the weekend, I feel I can come back to Kentucky and add a little color to my world here. Now, if I could just find someone to practice my "inner Julia" on...
So, we (when I say we, I mean I) washed laundry all day, packed bags, loaded the van, strapped in the kids and headed to Mississippi from Kentucky. We go back several times a year, but I'm always amazed how differently I feel when in my home state. I feel wiser somehow. I'm not sure what it is, but I think it has something to do with being familiar with the way people are expected to interact.
For instance, when shopping in Kentucky, people generally smile and say "excuse me," but no real conservations ever really take place in the department stores on in the check-out line -- especially if you have a toddler in the buggy (that's a shopping cart for all you Yankees). Well, I went shopping with Mama (one of the things I miss the most about living closer to family) and low and behold what would have taken 30 minutes in Kentucky took about 2 hours in Mississippi. Everybody stopped to make a fuss over my daughter (18 months) and how precious she was. She caught on, too. She would look at people as they walked by and say, "Hey!" with a grin 3 feet wide. She even said, "Hey, y'all!" a few times (at my coaxing, of course). I even found myself striking up conservations with complete strangers and feeling completely comfortable. I felt like Scarlett, "I've always taken comfort in the kindness of strangers."
However, the most unbelievable thing that happened was that my accent came rolling back. My "i's" sounded like "a's" and my sentences became so much more colorful. It felt like ice tea on a hot summer's day -- so refreshing to let go of the diction I've allowed to strip my language of color and sass.
I have a good friend that says I have an "inner Julia Sugarbaker" lurking somewhere deep inside. I believe I do. I just watched several episodes of "Designing Women" on TV Land, and Julia was a hell of a woman. Excuse my language, a Southern Belle shouldn't use such vulgarity. Anyway, after visiting Mississippi for the weekend, I feel I can come back to Kentucky and add a little color to my world here. Now, if I could just find someone to practice my "inner Julia" on...
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Getting ready in the morning is an art
It seems that many women today love to brag on how little time they spend actually getting ready in the morning. Three to five minutes seems to be the goal. I, for one, do not understand why any self-respecting woman would not relish the idea of having at least a full hour to herself to primp.
From an early age, Mama taught me that a girl needs at least two hours to get ready for the day. This time should include, but is not limited to, the following:
From an early age, Mama taught me that a girl needs at least two hours to get ready for the day. This time should include, but is not limited to, the following:
- bath or shower
- hair washing
- make-up (no less than 15 minutes to get it just right)
- smiling in mirror
- cup of coffee
- quiet time
- drying of hair
- curling of hair
- outfit prep
- jewelry prep
- smiling in mirror
- final spray of hair
- smiling in mirror one last time
- another cup of coffee
- lipstick application
- one more smile
- okay, one more smile for good measure
I know this seems a bit excessive, but it's worth it when your friends say, "I wish MY hair looked that good all the time." I relish in these comments. Although, I would never let my friends know. My usual response is and always will be, "I need a haircut." Never, "Well, thanks. I work hard to get it just right."
This prep means waking at least an hour and a half before your husband and children. I truly believe that in order to be a good wife and mother, I need to spend some time on myself. I refuse to let myself go. I also believe that by taking care of myself I will not need cosmetic surgery when I am older.
I do NOT believe in tattooing my eyeliner nor do I believe in paying an arm and a leg for my cosmetics. I buy ALL my hair products and make-up at Wal-Mart. I believe it's not about how much you can fork out for beauty but it is about application know-how. If you're not confident in your make-up application abilities, check out a few magazines. It's worth the money.
Please take this to heart. All woman can be beautiful if they simply take the time to care. Re-apply lipstick when your lips look pale. Pat away the oily reflection on your cheeks and forehead. Take notice of your hair EVERY time you pass a mirror. If you learn nothing else from this post, please learn to care about the reflection that looks back at you each morning. God has given you a new day to look and feel beautiful; don't waste it on sweats and a 3-minute make-up job.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
The Gala Experience
Last night, our dinner club got all gussied up and attended a gala benefit for a local scholarship fund. We had a BLAST!!! We joked that it was a "Prom for Grownups."
If you ever get the chance to get all dolled up, do it. I felt beautiful, and my husband couldn't stop looking at my cleavage, I mean my eyes. The theme for the evening was "Hollywood." There was a Casablanca room, a Godfather room, a Blazing Saddles room (the most fun), a Patsy Cline room (desert was served here), and the ball room was the Titanic room (ballroom dancing). We traveled from room to room, marveled at the decorations, and played fashion police. How fun!!!
As a girlie girl, I think it is most important to look your best at all times. Last night was no exception. I'm a humble girl, but I did look pretty good. I bought a new dress, new shoes, new jewelry, and new nail polish. I took 3 hours to get ready, and I'm proud of it.
I hope every Southern Belle gets more than one chance in her life to dress up. Maybe I'll start a list of things every woman should do in order to express her inner Southern Belle. That's my next post.
If you ever get the chance to get all dolled up, do it. I felt beautiful, and my husband couldn't stop looking at my cleavage, I mean my eyes. The theme for the evening was "Hollywood." There was a Casablanca room, a Godfather room, a Blazing Saddles room (the most fun), a Patsy Cline room (desert was served here), and the ball room was the Titanic room (ballroom dancing). We traveled from room to room, marveled at the decorations, and played fashion police. How fun!!!
As a girlie girl, I think it is most important to look your best at all times. Last night was no exception. I'm a humble girl, but I did look pretty good. I bought a new dress, new shoes, new jewelry, and new nail polish. I took 3 hours to get ready, and I'm proud of it.
I hope every Southern Belle gets more than one chance in her life to dress up. Maybe I'll start a list of things every woman should do in order to express her inner Southern Belle. That's my next post.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Virgin Post
This is my first post on my first blog. I have finally stepped into the 21st century. I can remember being in college at Ole Miss my senior year and HATING email because it was so difficult to remember the DOS prompts for PINE. That was before the days of Windows Mail.
I have enjoyed reading other blogs of mothers who still have a sense of humor. I am not an Oprah groupie (at least not publicly), and I don't subscribe to the idea that all men are stupid. I know my husband's intelligent, he just chooses to practice selective intelligence. I'm okay with that. I love being a mama to my lovelies (he is 6, she is 18 months). I love my husband (he is 33, I am 34). I love my job teaching music at an elementary school. I love Daddy and Mama. I love my sister and brother. Most of all, I love God.
I'm not sure what I will blog about next, but I'm sure something will come up. OOH, I know!!! I'm going to a gala tomorrow night with my husband and friends. We have a sitter, I have a new dress, and new shoes. It's like prom for adults. I can't wait. I'll take pictures and show the world how a Southern Belle should dress for a gala. Actually, it's been so long since I got to dress up I'm not sure I know how anymore. I fear I may break a leg in the shoes I bought. I've been practicing my walk for a week. I've worked my way up to a solid our on my feet in the new shoes. Every self respecting Southern Belle practices walking in heels DAYS before the event. Especially if she's rusty.
Gotta go. Need beauty sleep for the big day tomorrow!!
I have enjoyed reading other blogs of mothers who still have a sense of humor. I am not an Oprah groupie (at least not publicly), and I don't subscribe to the idea that all men are stupid. I know my husband's intelligent, he just chooses to practice selective intelligence. I'm okay with that. I love being a mama to my lovelies (he is 6, she is 18 months). I love my husband (he is 33, I am 34). I love my job teaching music at an elementary school. I love Daddy and Mama. I love my sister and brother. Most of all, I love God.
I'm not sure what I will blog about next, but I'm sure something will come up. OOH, I know!!! I'm going to a gala tomorrow night with my husband and friends. We have a sitter, I have a new dress, and new shoes. It's like prom for adults. I can't wait. I'll take pictures and show the world how a Southern Belle should dress for a gala. Actually, it's been so long since I got to dress up I'm not sure I know how anymore. I fear I may break a leg in the shoes I bought. I've been practicing my walk for a week. I've worked my way up to a solid our on my feet in the new shoes. Every self respecting Southern Belle practices walking in heels DAYS before the event. Especially if she's rusty.
Gotta go. Need beauty sleep for the big day tomorrow!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
