In the South marriage and children are taught as stepping stones during a young girl’s life that without accomplishing make it seemingly impossible to continue the journey to adulthood and beyond. Without marriage and children one is considered incomplete as a woman. Its accepted knowledge on this side of the Mason-Dixon line that most are to marry in their early twenties. At thirty the stepping stones that, as girls, we are taught to reach for seem harder to find than a yankee at a Nascar race. Some find them. Some think they’ve found solid footing and then slip off faster than syrup on a hoecake. Others, simply give up or bide time with girlish hopes of china patterns and designing bridesmaid dresses. Personally, I’m partial to the women that face facts. Then again, thats probably because I am one of “those women.” I didn’t find my stepping stones and in such, at the fated age of twenty-nine, I am no closer to marriage or children than I am to understanding why its so all-mighty important here in the land of Civil War reenactments and Piggly Wiggly’s that anything with a uterus and a sufficient bank account be a member of the Junior League.
You can cover them in eyelet and lace and let them serve you icebox cookies and lemonade all day but deep down in the heart of every cornbread loving Christian lady there lurks more judgement for the single girl than a Baptist preacher standing over a pew of sinners. We, the unmarried, are marked by our bare left ring finger. Although, at certain social functions this naked finger isn’t the one we wish we could thrust at people but rather the finger just to the right of it. Why? Married women have the unique ability to make situations unbearably uncomfortable for bachelorettes. Conversations centered around car seats, strollers and husband’s bosses either become increased in your presence, or worse, halted as they smile at you and inquire how your dating life is going. Because yes, thats always the topic one loves discussing at social gathering with relative groups of strangers. No. To be clear, there is no way to win on this subject of discussion. Either A, dating is incredibly successful. This means, at least in the bible belt, that you’ve met “the one” and pretty soon you’ll be able to join in on their witty repertoire regarding car seats. However, a girl must be careful on how enthusiastic she is regarding her successful dating or she will wind up regarded as the town tramp and treated like a social leper. The only other option is answer B, dating is not going well. This means that you are securing your social status as a spinster and once your back is turned the woman who just lovingly told you, “He’s out there somewhere, don’t you worry.” is going to shake her head and ask if anyone else noticed just how old your looking these days. This leaves you to linger by the punch bowl questioning your life choices and wondering just how many inches, and how long, it will take for your breasts to drop to your waist.
There are certain social circles in which women have skipped the first stepping stone of marriage and leapt right into having children, however, in the land of sweet tea and honey butter biscuits this doesn’t win you any favors. However, you do get the gift of enjoying at least part of the two step process we are brought up to believe makes us complete as a woman. Even if it is just the latter half. You might say I’m like a bowl of cold grits. Socially, I’m no longer viewed as hot and “on the menu” but somewhere along the line someone might just warm me up. Who’s to say? I myself never felt comfortable with the concept of marriage and children making me complete as a woman, probably because the idea of my requiring a man for anything I needed in life infuriated me, but even now the concept still feels unjust. Perhaps it is true. I can understand where having a child would make you feel like more of a woman. I’m willing to even allow the idea of a man falling in love with me making me feel more like a woman. Its just the word “complete” that trips me up every time. Maybe its because I can’t reach those last two stepping stones on my journey to womanhood and that its no fault of my own. Either way, its like a plate of beignets without powdered sugar on top. Its just not right.
The life of a bachelorette is exactly like that of a bachelor except for one key difference, just like they missed out on the humiliation of the training bra and the all night maxi pad they also escape free and clear from any social stigma. Rather than pitied bachelors are practically heralded and passed around as beacons of manhood and desirability to we unmarrieds. Amusing. The single man is considered more enticing than a sale on camo at Wal-Mart while the single woman is considered tragic. The Southern bachelorette fends for herself at parties and other social events. Holds her chin up at the office. She manages to attend countless bridal and baby showers not to mention the weddings and christenings that follow them. Some manage these socially harrowing tasks better than others, some end up crying in a darkened corner of a screen porch into their sweet tea, I myself do just fine. I’ve learned over time, and despite the scarlet S for spinster seemingly emblazoned across my chest wherever I go, that even though I’m not considered complete as a woman that I do consider myself complete as a person. I don’t need exact stepping stones to my life. I didn’t set that path, some hoop-skirted mammy raised society types did back in the days of chaperones and coming out balls. Dixieland be damned, I’m going to make my own trail. And if you don’t like it, you can kiss my grits!
