Talk Southern to Me

by Julia Fowler

  taken on and off like pearls.

  The most valuable item in your wardrobe

  is your smile.

  Always leave your house clean

  in case you die.

  Being real doesn’t dictate

  being rude.

  Kindness is

  not predicated on

  your mood.

  Charm disarms.

  Having no manners

  is worse than having no money.

  There's nothing tackier

  than being tacky.

  She’s so tacky

  she chews gum in

  the choir loft!

  She’s so tacky she

  puts on lipstick at the

  dinner table!

  Can you believe she

  showed up without calling?

  It’s rude as can be

  not to RSVP!

  Cleavage is an evening accessory.

  Keep both feet

  out of the gutter.

  If Mama wouldn't approve it,

  don't post it.

  Don’t go from debutante to double-wide.

  There is never an excuse

  for bad manners.

  Thank you, sugar!

  Excuse me, darlin'.

  You’re as welcome

  as sweet ’tater pie!

  When dancing the

  man leads, when dining

  the host leads.

  When in doubt ask folks

  about their favorite

  subject . . . themselves.

  Never let on how bored you are.

  Don’t speak with

  your mouth full,

  especially when it’s

  full of bull.

  Good posture speaks louder

  than your resume.

  Never underestimate the

  power of inner sparkle.

  Horses sweat,

  Southern ladies

  glow.

  Southern ladies don’t get drunk,

  they get over served.

  Southern ladies

  don’t

  smoke in public.

  Southern ladies don’t sit

  with their legs spread

  wide as Texas.

  Talking ugly

  makes you ugly.

  A whistling woman

  and a crowing

  hen always come to

  no good end.

  Always be aware when

  you’ve had a gracious plenty.

  Good

  Manners

  are free, but

  forgetting

  them costs

  you dearly.

  Talk

  Southern

  to Me 'Bout

  Beauty

  and Style

  Beauty and Style

  “Pearls go with everything except a thong bikini.”

  Southern women are renowned for their beauty and style. The moment they fly outta the womb, their Mamas teach them to take care of themselves and to always put the “appropriate” amount of time into their appearance. My Mama worked very long hours at two jobs, yet she never failed to get up at the crack of dawn and spend no less than an hour getting beautified for work. Come to think of it, I’ve seen her spend equal time getting dressed for the drive-thru at Rite Aid. Her favorite item on earth is her makeup mirror, where she can scrutinize her cosmetic skills in “home,” “office,” and “evening” illumination. She refuses to travel without her makeup mirror—given the painful choice she would rather leave behind my Daddy.

  And I must admit, the pecan didn’t fall far from the tree. My favorite toy as a child was Mama’s big jar of Nivea face cream. I would spend hours sitting on the bathroom countertop applying it to my face and pretending to be the spokesmodel in a commercial for the product. I remember sitting in a Shoney’s Big Boy booth in the sixth grade and tearfully begging my parents to let me shave my legs because I simply couldn’t bear the humiliation of going through life one more day with hairy legs. And I was ecstatic when I received an entire case of V05 hairspray for Christmas in high school. A case, y’all! Of course, it was all used up by February. Oh and I will confess that I currently own no less than sixty-three tubes of lipstick.

  Let me be clear, this madness never ends. The older a Southern woman gets, the more she becomes obsessed with her appearance. This is why the little old ladies at the assisted living facility regularly get their hair dyed, are fixated with their “casket outfits,” and make late, showy entrances to afternoon bridge games. It’s better to arrive late than ugly.

  Southern men get second billing in this department, but they, too, are taught from a young age how to put themselves together. Think of the ranch worker’s cowboy boots, politician’s bow tie, drunken frat boy’s khakis, or working man’s flannel shirt. Whether rugged, conservative, preppy, or country, Southern men have style. And even though Southern men complain about how long it takes us women to get ready, they secretly appreciate the passionate effort we make.

  Now, of course, we Southerners realize that character and spirit are the true measures of beauty, but this does nothing to deter our infatuation with outer elegance. Southern women love makeup, and going out in public without it is not an option. We wear it everywhere: the grocery store, the gym, the pool. We hone our skills and can apply it perfectly while whizzing down a lake on a speedboat. Our secret for setting makeup is to spray it with hairspray. Yep, we even use hairspray on our faces.

  And speaking of hairspray, whether you’re a pageant queen, a nurse, or a lawyer, if you’re Southern, you care a lot about your hair. We will spend our very last dime on it if necessary. We believe there is never an excuse for bad hair, which is why Southern hairstylists have bedridden clients. And don’t think Southern men can’t be hair obsessed. I’ve met men who would rather cut off their hand than their mullet. And have you heard of the preppy Southern boy swoop cut? Look it up—it has swept the South.

  Southern women also treasure their glowing skin. Luckily, the humidity helps preserve our skin, but we are militant about our skincare regimens. We apply moisturizer every night of our lives, even if we drank too much white Zinfandel to remember that we did it. And we care as much about the state of our nails as the state of the Union. Regular manicures and pedicures are a given, as no Southern woman worth her salt runs around with mangled hands and toes. We also understand the allure of a signature smell. We experiment with perfumes, figure out what works, apply a delicate amount, and stay loyal to it for years. I’ve been wearing the same gardenia scent since 1996.

  We care as much about the state of our nails as the state of the Union.

  Southerners also have some very particular fashion protocols. We would rather eat fire ants than get caught wearing white after Labor Day or before Easter. We monogram everything except our pets, and there’s probably a Southerner out there who’s done that. Whether fake or real, Southern women love pearls and wear them everywhere from the country club to the tractor pull. A sorority sister once told me, “Pearls go with everything except a thong bikini.”

  Southern women love to flaunt their femininity. We know there is nothing more polished, sophisticated and powerful than a smart dress and nothing tackier than an ill-fitting one. And we Southern women “get our colors done” professionally, so we know our most complementary shades. We love to be the center of attention, and know that you can’t stand out in a crowd if you’re wearing depressing, boring black. We save black for funerals. And we love sparkly stuff. Our closets tend to look like someone vomited rhinestones. Our jewelry boxes, containing both costume and real pieces, can be as big as a pickup truck. Bottom line is, Southern women love to shine bright and we couldn’t care less if we blind you in the process.

  Southern folks live in linen, lace, floral prints, polka dots, seersucker, plaid, flannel, and of course, gingham. It doesn’t bother us at all to dress like a picnic table. Then, of course, there’s camouflage, which is not reserved for hunters and mi
litary folks. In the South, camo is a fashion choice, and not just for men. Women wear it too, especially in pink.

  Southerners also appreciate the value of a good bow. Bow ties have never gone out of style down South and men wear them in an array of fun fabrics tied with perfect precision. And gigantic hair bows are stuck on the heads of little Southern girls from infancy. Everybody down South knows the bigger the bow, the more your Mama loves you.

  The bigger the bow, the more your Mama loves you.

  And it only takes one trip to the Kentucky Derby to realize that the crowning glory of a Southerner’s outfit is a standout hat. Southern women are renowned for wearing wide-brim hats. Cowboy hats are beloved by both men and women. And although Southern gentlemen look dapper in fedoras, they are famous for their endless collections of baseball hats.

  I would be remiss not to mention the Southern infatuation with jeans and cowboy boots. It doesn’t matter if our jeans are generic or designer, bootcut or tapered, stiff or stretchy, Southerners love their jeans. And cowboy boots are not just to be worn with jeans. We wear them with dresses, shorts, tailored suits, wedding gowns, swimsuits, tuxedos, bridesmaid dresses, and pajamas.

  All this intense effort we Southerners put into appearance is often mistaken for vanity, but it is not about vanity at all. Being “well put together” is about respect: respecting yourself by always marketing the most dignified, confident you regardless of your budget; respecting the assets you have been given and making the most of them; respecting the occasion by arriving well groomed and wearing something suitable; respecting the Lord by not dressing like you’re for sale; and respecting your kinfolk by not embarrassing the fool out of them by wandering around Dillard’s in your tackiest sweatpants.

  Is this tacky?

  You can’t wear that;

  it’s inappropriate!

  You’re gonna get old and new-monia

  dressed like that.

  I wouldn’t

  wear that to a

  dog fight.

  His pants are so tight if he farts his

  shoes’ll fly off.

  You’ll feel better if you

  slap on a little lipstick.

  You can tell a lot about

  a person just by looking at

  their fingernails.

  That blouse

  is uglier than

  homemade sin.

  If it can't

  be monogrammed,

  I don't want it.

  You gotta get gussied up!

  My hair is so big

  it’s got its own zip code.

  These earrings sparkle like a

  diamond in a goat’s butt!

  Sugar, just ’cause it zips don’t mean it fits.

  Never wear five

  dollars worth of

  ten-cent makeup.

  Put on some makeup;

  you look like

  death on a cracker!

  I look like something

  that's been chucked out the side

  of a lawn mower.

  You look prettier

  than a speckled pup!

  The higher the heels,

  the lower the morals.

  She's wearing last year's

  jeans in this year's butt.

  My hair is flat

  as a flounder.

  That suit’s uglier

  than a bowling shoe.

  I need to put some

  paint on this barn.

  Lord, if them britches turn loose,

  all her gravy’s gonna run out.

  These pants

  pick up everything but

  men and money.

  I’m gonna tease my

  hair ’til it cries.

  My fake eyelashes are so big,

  if I blink I'll take flight.

  That dress makes your butt

  look like a truck full of cantaloupes.

  Camo is my

  signature color.

  My hair looks like it’s been pulled

  through a chicken fence backwards.

  Now, who

  let her

  outta the house

  lookin’

  like that?

  That bow doesn't match

  that outfit.

  Beauty is skin deep

  but ugly is to the bone.

  His pants are so tight he had to

  jump off a building to get in ’em.

  Never stuff 20

  pounds of ’taters in

  a ten-pound sack.

  Lord, everything she’s got

  is out on the show room floor.

  My hair is

  standing forty ways

  to Sunday.

  Honey, that hat is the berries!

  I can’t have surgery

  ’til I touch up my roots.

  Always wear clean underwear

  in case you’re in a car accident.

  Always flaunt

  your femininity.

  Lord, she's had that weave in

  since Jesus was a baby.

  The higher the hair,

  the closer to God.

  Her pants are

  so tight I can see

  her religion.

  You look prettier than

  a store-bought doll!

  I was on my way home but then

  something sparkly caught my eye.

  You look like something

  the dog keeps under the porch.

  Hun, you don’t wanna be wearing

  that when Jesus comes back.

  If you can get dressed for Saturday night you can get dressed for Sunday morning!

  I’ve talked all my

  lipstick off!

  Talk

  Southern to

  Me When

  Chewin'

  the Fat

  Chewin' the Fat

  “Some of the butter has slid off her biscuit.”

  Anybody who’s ever met a Southerner knows that we can talk the ears off a hobbyhorse. We’re long-winded by nature. In fact, I would venture to say that the only thing we enjoy more than good food is good conversation—we literally chew the fat while “chewing the fat.” Now, a good chewing the fat session usually includes some friendly chitchat, a tall tale or two, and of course, gossip. Although we Southerners don’t like to admit it, all of us, even the most religious, tend to have something to say about someone and have been known to lend an enthusiastic ear to get the scoop. If a Southerner says, “I don’t mean to sound mean, but . . . ” you’re about to hear something that’ll make you drop your teeth.

  The problem is that we Southerners are taught from birth to be polite—even if it kills us. So when Southern folks gossip, they have to somehow find a way to maintain an ounce of the politeness that’s been drilled into them. This is what I call the art of Southern snark. Language is such a vibrant part of Southern culture it’s no wonder we excel at crafting colorful insults. But in order to make ourselves feel less evil about making a snarky comment, we utter the three words that are guaranteed to be the most confusing of all to a non-Southerner, “ Bless your heart. ”

  Now proper heart blessing requires skill, as the undertones and nuances of this phrase can be perplexing to navigate. For example, this phrase can be used in earnest sympathy such as, “Bless her heart, she just buried her Daddy and now she’s eat up with the gout.” Or this phrase can be used to indicate, “Thank God it’s you and not me,” such as, “Your house has termites and your teenager is pregnant? Well, bless your heart.” It can mean, “You’re a flaming idiot but I’m too polite to say so,” as in “You’re in pain from your latest round of liposuction? Bless your heart.” But this phrase packs the most punch when we use it to alleviate our guilt about gossiping and to soften the blow of delivering stupendous Southern snark, like, “Bless his heart, he’s so dumb, if brains were dynamite he wouldn’t have enough to blow his nose.” I realize such warmhearted meanness is confusing and contradictory, but it makes per
fect sense to us Southerners.

  While “bless your heart” is arguably the South’s most popular gossip diffuser it is by no means the only one. Another common expression is “ I’m just sayin’. ” This phrase allows a Southerner to feel open minded while simultaneously being judgmental. For example, “If she wants to wear white at her wedding, that’s her business—I’m just sayin’ that woman’s seen more ceilings than a house painter.” And oftentimes it’s used as a thin disguise for envy, such as, “I’m just sayin’ I can’t believe they spent all that time and money building that humongous house and didn’t even bother to hire a landscaper.” It’s also routinely used when a Southerner has been proven wrong while disparaging someone but can’t bring themself to admit it. For instance:

  HUSBAND: Did you see our fool neighbor got chickens? That city slicker doesn’t know the first thing about raising chickens!

  WIFE: Well, you’ve got a yard full of ducks that refuse to swim.

  HUSBAND: I’m just sayin’!

  Perhaps one of the South’s most brilliant gossip qualifiers is “ God love ’em .” I was raised a Baptist in the Bible Belt and this phrase was as common at church potlucks as CorningWare. For example, “Poor old Buford. His lazy grandchildren are gonna suck him dry of all his money. God love ’em.” And I’ve personally had some version of this warning whispered in my ear at many a potluck, “Do not eat Nettie Mae’s lemon pound cake. She insisted on bringing it, God love her, but her pound cake is always off.” And I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard, “God love him, that man’s so mean he’s going to hell on a scholarship.” As you can see, this is an extremely useful adage when a Southerner spews criticism but at the same time is grateful that God loves the victim of the criticism. God love ’em . . . ’cause somebody’s gotta.

  I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my Granny Fowler’s favorite Southern snark sanitizer, “ I’m gonna pray for her. ” Granny Fowler was a strong, hardworking, kind, classy, charitable, and religious Southern woman who taught Sunday school most of her life. She used to preach, “A dog that brings a bone will carry one.” This basically means if somebody comes to you with gossip then they will carry their tendency to gossip elsewhere and talk about you. She knew that the Lord frowned upon the destructive force of gossip and did her best to live like Jesus, but Granny was also human, so sometimes she slipped.