First things, first.  After over-committing myself (again) to what felt like every extracurricular activity on the planet this semester, I woke up after finals and thought, “Hey! It’s been kind of a while since I’ve cut my hair.”  Then, I looked in the mirror. Woah. So first thing this morning, I hopped in a stylist’s chair and said goodbye to the hippie hair I didn’t even realize I had.  Several months ago before I ever thought about writing a blog, I read an article that someone posted to Facebook about Southern women.  Garden & Gun isn’t really my first choice in reading material, and the article itself painted a pretty one-dimensional image of Sourthern women.  Still, this one line stuck out to me then and stays with me now.

It also means never leaving the house with wet hair. Not even in the case of fire. Because wet hair is low-rent. It shows you don’t care, and not caring is not something Southern women do, at least when it comes to our hair.

I always go out with wet hair, and I do always look like I don’t care.  I used to think I had some sort of devil-may-care kind of thing going on.  (Ooo, look at her. She’s so confident! She doesn’t spend hours working on her hair. She’s sooo independent.)  Now, I realize it was definitely more of a wear-your-house-shoes-out-in-public type of look.  NOT attractive.

With the hubs and me both in school full-time, money certainly isn’t falling from the trees.  Still, I’m NOT low-rent.  I’m smart, kind, and capable.  I’m important in my own little world, and if I don’t care enough to put forth my best, then what kind of response can I really expect from other people?

Now obviously, I don’t think cute hair makes you a better person. (Actually, I’m pretty sure in some cases it can make you worse!)  And I don’t ever want to build relationships based on whether someone else thinks I look the part.  But I do want the world to see the me I can be.  The me that’s take charge, cool under pressure, ready for anything.  Without a mess of wet hair on top of my head as a distraction. :)


And so it begins…..

Ah, the bacon biscuit. Breakfast staple, comfort food, waist killer.

Over the years, I’ve had good ones, great ones, awful ones.  Frozen ones, made from scratch ones, microwaved ones.  Big ones, tiny ones, just-right ones.  Along the way, I’ve found my favorites, learned to make do, and sworn off the worst.

I’m an eater, not a writer, so please don’t expect too much from me here. My intentions are many, some more worthy than others.  I’m starting this blog to lose some weight. To quit going to Walmart with wet hair. To finally break free of my fear of writing something others will see.  At the end of the day, this is a place where I’ll be sharing my own goals, insecurities, and triumphs as one woman striving to achieve those elusive ideals of Southern charm and beauty.