Post by erniebufflo on Sept 18, 2012 12:36:11 GMT -5
I have to make use of daycare time to go to Target and write an abstract and outline a paper. SO. Don't have too much fun with out me, and for the love of Pete, someone catch me up if anything happens.
I'm an Arkansan, so it's a normal thing for me. I'm an honest-to-God Southern belle: I was a real life debutante.
Umm... TELL ME MORE!
My hometown has an annual debutante ball every year. You get selected by a committee of "society" women. Mostly rich little old ladies. You get chosen around the time you graduate from high school, and that summer is "The Season" when you attend a whole bunch of parties and other social events. It all culminates in the Red Rose Ball during winter break, at which point you are "introduced into society" by your father while wearing a big white ballgown. We had to curtsey in front of everyone, and present a red rose to our mothers, and do this big grand march thing. So many of the girls tried to get dates from the Naval and Air Force Academies because their dress uniforms are so neat. My hubby and I were dating at the time, but had just started, so he was not my escort. Mine was a childhood friend. It was a big deal, but at the same time, a couple of the other girls and I sort of just had a great time and laughed at and had a sense of humor about it. It's basically a vestige of the old aristocracy, when you made your debut as a young lady eligible for marriage. The Brits have it too. My hubby still laughs when I have a particularly ungraceful moment and says, "And YOU'RE a member of polite society??"
Here they all get their names and pics/bios in the paper in their white dresses. I was just an Italian-American heathen who didn't belong to the country club, so I was not presented to society.
Post by erniebufflo on Sept 18, 2012 16:54:07 GMT -5
Why I need you guys in my life: so I can take frequent breaks while reading things with titles like "A Foucauldian Feminist Approach to Kate Chopin's The Awakening." (This particular piece is written by a douche who calls her own analysis an "innovative approach." Uh, dude, not cool to compliment yourself.)
Here they all get their names and pics/bios in the paper in their white dresses. I was just an Italian-American heathen who didn't belong to the country club, so I was not presented to society.
Haha this! We had cotillions but I was never involved.