I Wanted to be "Little Debbie" --and other assorted wild fantasies of my youth

Okay,
so where have I been lately?
Right?
Right.

We STILL have yet to commit to a Family Motto for 2013--
I had pretty much settled on
"We Seek After Bacon"
and thought I'd be clever n' just make
BACON an acronym for something ethereal and lovely like
B=Being Kind
A= Academic Exellence
C= Charity towards others
O=Organize Ourselves
N= Nourishing our Testimonies.

Yeah. That was shot down.
Too cheesy, they say.
{shaking my head}
Do these people not understand
that their Mother is the 
Queen of All Things Cheesy?

So. No Motto. Nothing carved in wood yet.

Okay, so back to my title.
Little Debbie.
I'm a girl of the South.
Cut offs, barefeet, midriffs or bathing suit tops
was the uniform of summer.
The only closed toe shoes I ever owned
were the ones I got at Easter--
white patent leather that I used either toothpaste or Comet
to clean the scuff marks off.
I know what fried okra is,
eaten a belly full o' pork rinds n' frog's feet,
picked cucumbers and bell peppers,
stood atop an old Chevy to pick brown bags full of tangerines,
and knew that day that involved a fresh Moonpie with a YooHoo!
 was a good day indeed.
I am a Southerner.
N' I just loved

Little Debbie.
Yeah.
I used to save the boxes the treats came in--
I don't know why...I thought she looked like me
only in a bonnet.
We could be friends.
I actually mail-ordered a Little Debbie Barbie
when I was old enough to pay for it--

as the mother of 5 chi'ren.
No kidding. Little Debbie rocks.

Also,
I saved Aunt Jemima syrup bottles--
the glass ones that came with the cloth aprons on them.
Seriously loved that buttery syrup.
Are you shaking your head now?
I know. It's nuts. But it's true.

Wendy's.
I wanted to know Wendy of Wendy's.
I've seen her now as an adult,
but I really wanted to see her as a kid--
her "Little Debbie" knock-off garb
combined with her Pippi-Longstocking-styled red pigtails.
I mean, yeah, was I the only one who noticed
Wendy was tryin' to look like Little Debbie??
Lotta nerve if you ask me. Lot. Of. Nerve.
Definitely someone I wanted to know
when I was still as ridiculous as I am now,
but not as cheesy.


The fantasies of my youth were not limited to food icons.

(notice my lovely bangs?)

When I was in second grade,
I'd stand in front of my dresser mirror
n' squint my eyes tryin' to imagine what I'd
look like all grown up 
in the sixth grade.
I didn't know about middle schools and high schools then.
I thought once I got to sixth grade
I'd be like, 21 years old.
I really wanted to look like Barbara Eden

of "I Dream of Jeannie"--
or "Twiggy" with her long eyelashes and short hair.
I figured I had a better chance of coming out like Twiggy
than Jeannie,
because my momma could not stand to let my hair grow
even to my shoulders
before she'd get out her sewing scissors and take a whack at my hair.
She was forever-and-ever-amen
trying to give me a "Page Boy" cut.

(notice my "page boy?)

I typically looked like I had used box cutters on my own hair.
More like Twiggy with her "pixie cut"--
one that my mother ALSO tried out on me.
The other thing I had in common with the lovely Brit
was that I was a bean pole.
My momma used to say,
"Stick out your tongue so we can see you."
So of course I had to have a Twiggy lunchbox--
hoping my classmates would also notice the strong resemblance
between me and my fantasical idol.
To my recollection,
noone ever did,
probably because I looked more like
Little Debbie.



But hey, I didn't know my audience.
Clearly they were too young and Batman and Catwoman
were more popular for the crowd I ran with.
Catwoman scared the beans outta me so much,
that I think that was the beginning of my dislike for cats.
Maybe she woulda been better if she'd owned a dress like Little Debbie.
Or ate a moonpie once in awhile.