“Things Every Southern Woman Should Know How to Make”

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Alice clicked on the headline, mildly curious about what yet another stranger thought should be in her kitchen repertoire. Pictures of China plates mounded with crispy fried chicken, greens, cobbler, and a pile of biscuits a mile high flooded the screen, all set off with a pitcher of sweet tea beaded with condensation. The table was set; an apron draped off to the side next to a box labeled “Gramma’s Recipes” in fine calligraphy. She closed the browser and put away her tablet. She was born a Georgia peach, but she couldn’t make a cobbler to save her life. Did that mean she wasn’t southern? Or maybe just not “Southern.” For Alice, there was no recipe box full of family traditions. Her younger years were filled with rental homes in different states and her father’s voice coaxing her toward a text book rather than a cookbook. Metalworking and fabrication held more interest than learning to flambé or sauté. Did it make her less of a woman that her cooking skills consisted of fresh salads
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Chopped

A little over a week ago, I did something pretty drastic. The thought of it terrified me, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew it was something I needed to do. So, with the encouragement of many friends and coworkers, I took a breath, steeled myself...
 
And cut my hair.
 
I should note that I haven't cut my hair in many, many years. Up until a couple months ago, it was past my hips. In the winter, I could wrap it around my neck like a scarf. Then I needed to get a picture taken, so I went for a trim.
 
A trim that took off over a foot of hair.
 
And it was still to the middle of my back.
 
A couple months later, my mom decided she wanted a pixie cut, so I took her on her birthday to a local salon. They did an excellent job, which gave me the courage to do what I'd been thinking about.
 
I browsed the web for days, looking for a haircut I like and thought I could manage. Some were adorable, but I didn't know if I had the skill to pull it off. Then I found one that was so cute, and looked so easy to do, so I went for it.
 
I made an appointment with the same salon, showed Jenny what I wanted, and asked her to cut the length off in a ponytail. After she was sure this was what I really wanted, she grabbed a pair of scissors and began to cut.
 
I am highly pleased with myself because I didn't cry.
 
This was what it looked like for my author photo after the trim:
 
 
 
This is what Jenny cut off a week ago:
 
 
 
 
 
 
That's 17 inches!
 
 
 
 
This was my hair freshly cut:
 
 
And this is how it looks now. (I apparently have natural wave!)
 
 
 
 

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