Growin up I never understood that there was something special about bein raised in the South. I ran barefoot outside, played in the mud, watched football and nascar on tv, ate sweet cornbread, and tomatoes like apples. As I’ve gotten older I’ve enjoyed more Southern comforts- I fell in love with true sweet tea(my mom’s a diabetic so I grew up with the fake sugar), muddin, and then fried green tomatoes. I love them. I miss them. Sure one small restaurant here sells them but I miss homemade goodness.Heck, I miss home cookin in general.
Last night I was told I was truly from the South because I loved fried green tomatoes. I smiled. I’m proud to be from the South. I love blarin my country music, sippin on my sweet tea, eatin my tomatoes,peaches, chicken, cornbread, grits, sausage biscuits&gravy,moon pies,and everything that is part of the country life. So hears to the South- where everything is Coke, Sweet tea is holy, and barefoot is good.
Growing up Southern is a privilege, really. It’s more than where you’re born, it’s an idea and state of
mind that seems imparted at birth. It’s more than loving fried chicken, sweet tea, football, and country music. it’s being hospitable, devoted to front porches, magnolias, moon pies and coca-cola… and each other. We don’t become Southern – we’re born that way.
A southern girl is a girl who knows full and well that she can open a door for herself but prefers for the
gentleman to do it because it demonstrates a sense of respect. After all, every girl wants to be treated
like a princess. We know how to make sweet tea and grits while telling you everything about any football
team in the SEC. We pick our battles and fight with the heart of a pit bull while still maintaining grace
and elegance. Our mystique is that of a soft-spoken, mild-mannered southern bell who could direct an
army, loves her momma and will always be daddy’s little girl.