sweet home alabama.

margit calls while i’m sitting on the plane in dallas, waiting to take off.
“are you in dallas?” she asks.
“no,” i reply, “i think i’m in hell.”
literally, surrounded by no less than 10 mary kay reps—most dolled up in pink paraphernalia—returning from a conference.

i spotted them as i walked up to the gate. i wasn’t aware that they were affiliated with mary kay from their appearance but i immediately labeled them as southern. sidenote: i wonder if i’m so easily identifiable.
dressed to the hilt in their matchy-matchy outfits.
although they weren’t dressed alike, they somehow looked similar…somehow cookie-cutterish.
hair done.
matching jewelry (or jewery as one pronounced the word, in southern fashion).
made up (of course…with their mary kay products).
and the drawl…it was sure enough thick.
yes, ladies and gents, i have officially arrived in the south.

margit mistakenly said, “that’s dallas for you”…until i corrected her by informing her all these ladies were from my home state.
sweet home alabama.

while waiting for take-off the conversation centered on the pink ring won or the car earned. The girl clad in her cute pink linen dress could not get out of the seat next to me fast enough, moving to be close to her make-up cronies. i was relieved…although i couldn’t help thinking if she was repulsed by natural more boho look (dressed in natural hues, fleece, flip-flops, no jewelry save the long earrings dangling from my ears—and the cartilage diamond stud, unprocessed hair, sunburned face now flaking off, and no make-up…what a tragedy).
maybe repulsed,
maybe intimidated,
maybe a perfect candidate for her services,
maybe beyond her help.
maybe i should have asked for some moisturizer to soothe the layer(s) of skin falling off my neglected-to-wear-sunscreen-at-the-beach-yet-again face.

at any rate, i couldn’t wait for the announcement that electronic devices are now allowed.
ibuds in ears and ipod equipped with garden state soundtrack, drowning out any further discussion of make-up in what might be assumed by outsiders as turned-on southern accents.

causing me to realize i just never quite fit in here, did i?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s