Feminine Conspiracy: Things That Make You Go "Hmm"

“What Melanie did was no more than all Southern girls were taught to do: to make those about them feel at ease and pleased with themselves. It was this happy feminine conspiracy which made Southern society so pleasant.  - Margaret Mitchell, Gone With the Wind

Once when I was in junior high, a couple of teenage girls rang our doorbell.  I was the only one home at the time and answered the door.  "Can we use your bathroom?" they innocently asked. "We were just riding around and had to go."  This might seem an odd request these days but back in the 1970's and living in a small town, it seemed perfectly normal.  When you gotta go, you gotta go.  So I led them to the master bathroom but noticed they were glancing around the house, as if hoping to find someone else there.  Suspicions aroused, I eavesdropped while they were in the restroom and overheard them whispering about my brother John.  Apparently my brother was a hot prospect back in the day and they had used the bathroom scenario as a ruse to run into him.  That night at the supper table, I could hardly wait to regale my family with the story of our visitors and how I knew the only reason they stopped by our house was to see John.  Thinking I was so smart I declared, "I should have just told them I knew what they were up to and to get out!"  Well, my father, who was a man of few words, jerked his head up from his plate and gave me THE look.  You know what I'm talking about. The look that permeates your body so that you are certain you are about to spontaneously combust. Scolding me he said, "Any person who sets foot in this house is a guest and you will always treat them that way, no matter what their reason for being here."  It was a lesson in manners that was burned into my psyche.

We Southerners, especially people from the Delta, are known for our impeccable manners.  A friend once surmised that we're taught manners from the breast.  "Yes ma'am," "No sir," "Please" and "Thank you" are part of the vernacular and flow from the tongue instinctively.  Everyone who enters your home is considered a guest and is offered a drink or invited to supper. Even if we don't like you, we will kill you with kindness.

As part of the feminine conspiracy, Southern women have become adept at tactfulness, something I never mastered.  I realized this when one of my previous bosses, upon my leaving the firm, gave me as a gift the book Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady.  I'm not certain he realized the book was about a woman who was raised in a Southern family, attends Ole Miss and finally acknowledges that she is a lesbian.  I'm pretty sure it was just a nod to the title and a "wink, wink" to the fact that I was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a Southern belle.  I'm loud and unfiltered which doesn't always come off well, especially in the South.

Southerners don't really come out and say what we mean - we talk around something.  We are as proficient at transmitting secret messages as the Navajo code talkers.  I once had a conversation with a friend about her visit to a new acquaintance's home.  "The whole house was decorated in Lilly Pulitzer!" she exclaimed, aghast.  She elaborated further and I quickly realized we weren't really talking about the decor of this woman's home but the fact that she was a Yankee trying to pose as a Southerner and would never fit in my friend's social circle.  Of course, my friend would never come right out and say that.  No upstanding Southerner would.  But we will bless your heart and stab you in the back simultaneously.
   

As karma would have it, I've been on the receiving end of this code on many occasions.  In my case the comments usually relate to my physical attributes.  Southern belles, even the failures, are supposed to be presentable at all times and looking our best.  You don't ever want anyone to comment that you look like you've been rode hard and put up wet.  Of course, they would never say that to your face.

Unfortunately in my case, menopause and thyroid problems (I swear) have not been my friends.  Let's just say that the freshman forty that plagued me in college has made a return visit.  The changes in my physical appearance haven't been lost on friends and family.  Most of their veiled observations about me fall into three categories:  weight, hair and my sartorial taste.

1.  Weight:

"Has the doctor gotten your Synthroid dosage straightened out?"  I get this question every time I go home.  It's usually followed by a comment regarding my weight gain.  I know deep down that they are really concerned with my health.

"You're so . . . curvy!  How did that happen?"  This one actually made me chuckle.  My response was "I eat a helluva lot and drink too much wine!"  As noted above, were I a true Southern belle, I would have had a more subtle response.

"I didn't recognize you now that you're skinny!"  I'm not sure but did you just insult me???  This occurred after a stint with Weight Watchers.  A prime example of a back-handed compliment. Southerners are experts at these.

2.  Hair

"You're a blonde now!"  Your friends want you to know that they know you color your hair.  Apparently my stylist got it wrong.

"Your hair is so long!"  Everyone knows you are not supposed to wear your hair past your shoulders after age 40 unless you are a movie star.  I think this came from the Bible.

"Your hair looks better from the back.  Maybe you can walk into the church backwards."  I was told this about an hour before attending a family member's wedding.  In my defense, I actually paid for that bad up-do.

3.  Apparel:

"You had that same dress on last time I saw you.  It's so cute."  In reality they're wondering if my spouse and I are having financial problems and can't afford a suitable collection of clothing for myself.  The cute comment really takes some of the sting out of it.

"That's an interesting outfit" or my personal favorite, "You have to be careful wearing a dress like that."  What they really want to say is that they can't believe I came out in public looking that way. My wardrobe choice was wrong.  Really wrong.

Let's face it.  I am a work in progress.  Part of my problem is that I strive way too hard to be the perfect Melanie, the perfect Southern belle and usually just end up a hot mess.  I should just accept my shortcomings because my flaws give me character and depth.  Well, thanks for letting me rant.  I hope it gave you a good laugh.  By the way, you look much prettier when you smile.