Happy Humpday, my Lovelys! I am pleased to let you all know that through my drunken haze last night I came up with a subject to broach today that I actually still remember this morning. Alas, the whiskey is gone.
After I kicked my Rockstar’s ass in darts last night (twice- YAY ME!) while downing the last of the Windsor, we decided to eat. Incidentally, it was after 8:00, which is very bad for a diet. I made him cook for himself and I made gourmet baked potatoes in the microwave. (Yay modern technology.) While we were eating, we turned on the tube, and there happened to be a documentary of Jackie O. on. Since I was sloshed, I shall spare you the details of this said documentary, as I wasn’t really paying too much attention. But I did think how elegant she seemed, and how soft-spoken she was, and how it was very courageous of her to hold in her Honey’s brains when he got shot in the head.
This got me thinking about class and what defines it. I was raised in a strictly Baptist home, and sent to a private school where the girls weren’t allowed to wear anything brazen or tawdry. I was taught that women are supposed to be submissive to their husbands and you don’t talk about sex! or else you will go to hell. Oddly enough, there was lots of sex going on in that church, since nearly every family had at least 4 kids. So according to Baptists, doing what your man tells you to and not bringing attention to yourself defines class. But it’s ok to judge people that aren’t like you….
According to Emily Post, you must always be polite, place you napkin in your lap, and never boo the opposing team.
I suppose some people consider Jackie to be classy because she didn’t publicly make a big fuss about Marilyn Monroe boinking her husband. I personally would pulled a Lorena Bobbit or asked if I could join in, but that’s just me.
By her own admission, my personal hero Dolly Parton is completely trashy. The big hair, heavy makeup, and rhinestone outfits encasing her biggest assets are completely contrary to the strict way in which I was raised. Yet she will never say anything bad about anyone, (Porter Wagoner) and she has a deep and meaningful relationship with God. I believe that is classy.
I have thought about it, and the people I most respect are those who say what they think. The way to do this in a classy way is to say it without hurting someone’s feelings. I think not judging people is classy, even if they are not like you and you can’t understand why they do the things they do. I believe it is classy to be who you are and not apologize for it (even if you dye your hair orange and show cleavage), and I think it is classy to always give someone a smile, even if you are not feeling particularly happy. XOXO
Sparklebumpsthebookwhore 