Southern Living

You guys, living in the South cracks me up. I love the random Southern Fried cast of characters you run into on any given day in the South. Every region has their own flavor, I know, but ours is just SO endearing.

Today, for example, I had an appointment at the dermatologist office. At check-in, I was greeted by THE MOST made-up and bedazzled woman I’ve seen in weeks (I can’t say “I’ll ever see” because fair season is just around the corner). She had on at least 4 shades of eyeshadow, and that doesn’t include her eyebrow shade. Lipstick perfectly filling in the lines carefully drawn around her mouth. The brightest shade of purply-pink blush to go with her stiffly-coiffed and bright orange-with-bleach-blonde-highlighted hair. Her reading glasses were bejeweled expertly to match her tunic, also glitzy. Her acrylic nails were the perfect shade for summer: neon coral and 4 inches long and were a perfect compliment to her massive blue topaz (?) stone on one hand, and blindingly shiny diamonds on the other.

She was perfection.

Her accent was great, too. I’m sure people who have never spent time in the South think we either sound like Scarlett O’Hara or Boss Hog. Believe it or not, there’s nuance to our accents, and they are very distinct to us. Now, this lady was ALL Tennessee Business. Slopping sugar ALL over everybody. She spoke slowly and loudly on the phone, sprinkling in some “Honey” and “Sweetie” where she could.

I had to wait quite a while, so I got to listen to her banter with her coworkers. She was a hoot (see how Southern I am?) to listen to. Asking her other receptionist “Honey, how were those hot dawgs last niiiet? Were they SO GOOD?” Or “Miss Janie, THAINK EWE for making this CAWFEE! I was about to just fall out asleep!” And when she took a sip from her (purple, natch) straw cup, she did it with such focus, such determination to NOT SMUDGE HER LIPSTICK that I was in awe. It was like watching a flower bloom in reverse or something.

Sadly, I was finally called back to see about getting a mole cut off (good news! It requires a plastic surgeon so they don’t destroy my face) and all I had to look at in the exam room was the Wart Forms, which had almost NO bedazzling at all, and that made me sad.

 

The opposite of glamour.

The opposite of glamour.

So shine on, Southern Receptionist Lady. I may slap on an extra coat of, well, everything today, just to be more like you.