A tall glass of Southern Sass!

 

Being a Southern young woman in the big city isn’t an easy task, in fact let me take a moment right now to salute all of you ladies who have successfully transplanted yourselves to the big city but have kept that unique quality that all Southern women tend to be born with, which is really just a Southern drawl, attitude, and an uncanny way to insult someone by simply saying “bless her heart”, but I think unique quality sums it up don’t you? Hats off to all of you who have completed the above task! If you aren’t careful that Southern charm will slip away and before you know it you sound more like Paris Hilton talking to that damn Chihuahua than the down home wildflower you really are.

 

In my line of work my accent does tend to be a problem;  producers and directors often to want their actors to sound like a “general American” whatever that is, instead of Blanche  Devereux.  I always love to see the reactions of new friends, who have only had the privilege to hear me on set, when they catch me in a phone conversation with Mama.  However as hard as I may try to keep my southern drawl, I always get the same reaction when I visit home. “Chels, what have they done to you, you sound so weird.” I guess that I don’t sound near the way I used to, but come on people; I have lived out here almost five years. Must we have the same reaction every time I come to call?

 

As important as the accent is, it is not the only quality that sets us belles apart from the rest of the world. The attitude is also very important. I have a friend who likes to tease me about my let’s call it Southern charm. And I will never forget what he told me once “never hit a Southern woman, because she will probably hit you back.” And to that I say, hell yes we will. I have a great aunt who shot her husband because he was trying to beat the shit of her, so I guess you can say my Southern spirit runs deep. True I will admit that this does cause me to be a bit stubborn, and I hate to yield in an argument, and getting the last word is my specialty. My daddy used to tell me I could argue with a brick wall and not back down. To be fair he is probably right, if I thought the wall was wrong I would argue my point, and then I would go get a sledge hammer.

 

Don’t get me wrong it’s not all spit and fire with us belles, we can also be saccharine sweet to those we love. Ain’t nothin’ better than the lovin’ of a Southern’ woman.  I guarantee if you are ever blessed enough to attain the affection of a Southern women your world will never be the same, and if you let her go than you’re dumber in the head than a dog is in ass.   For example my Papaw loves my Mamaw so much that every year on their anniversary he gives her a red rose for every year they have been married and one white rose for the next year, it will be 56 years this Christmas by the way. Now I’m not saying that kind of display is a must. That way of thinking would be shallow and unbecoming, something us belles just aren’t. I can however tell you this. We belles might not expect you to treat us like queens all the time, but we love you so good that you’ll want to.  

 

 

Keeping your Southern roots in a place where the people don’t know britches from blue jeans!

 I have to admit that when I first moved out to Los Angeles it was a culture shock. The women and ways of this crazy world can be intimidating. I just remember thinking I look nothing like these girls out here, with my lack of Oompa Loompa orange spray on tan, bleach blonde hair, and size 0 pants, I wasn’t sure how I was going to fare. But as I watched the perfectly groomed plastic ladies walk by with their non-fat, no sugar, decaf latte, I realized, hey you don’t want to be like these women.  

 Number one, orange is not my best color, and walking around down South lookin’ like that will just get people asking what disease you’re afflicted with. Number two, with my pale skin and perfectly freckled face bleach blonde hair would just wash me out, and every Southern woman worth her salt knows you never wear a color that washes you out. Neither of these ideas were a particularly comforting thought, so I soon became quite comfortable with my Southernisms, red hair, blue eyes and, happy to say, size 6 body around these women. I chose to view them as what they really were, which was in the words of my late grandmother, Colleen Hollingsworth, “just tacky”. 

 This conclusion was also helped along by the realization that I could probably kick most of these women’s asses if it came to it. Not that I would ever resort to physical violence in a public place; a Southern lady would never do such a thing. No, we prefer to do our fighting with more class.  We will politely hold our tongues and our urge to smack that bitch until we can get them alone in the privacy of our back yards.  I’m kidding, we don’t do that…usually. Most of the time we are happy to settle for a back-handed compliment and an ever so sweet, “Bless her heart.” “She probably can’t help acting that way.” “You know who her family is right?”

Now if any Yankees are reading this, I know that sounds harsh, but we are well aware that she is probably saying the same thing to her circle of friends, and if we can accept it then you shouldn’t be getting your panties in a wad!