Just Call Me Trashy

The boy and I were out running errands over the weekend, and we ran into Belk to buy a Father's Day gift for Dan/Daddy.
If you aren't from the South, you may not be familiar with the Belk.  It's a department store that has been around since the dawn of time.  Well, maybe it hasn't been around that long, but I remember my teeny tiny small hometown having a Belk store before we had much of anything else.  Even McDonald's.

The checkout lines in our Belk men's department were a mile long, so we found a half-mile long line in the women's department.  We also apparently got in line in front of the Fashion Police from 1937.

A group of 4 senior ladies behind us began to chat about the long lines.

"I remember back when you went to a department store, you had one sales person all to yourself.  They brought you clothes to try on, and they knew what looked nice."

Another one chimed in,
"I'll bet that salesgirl was dressed up, too.  They knew how to dress up for work back then."

Then the next one piped up,
"I can't get over how these young folks dress these days.  Especially in church!  They don't even wear pantyhose anymore!"

Now remember, I have a 14 year-old boy standing with me.  At this point in their conversation, we had stopped talking to each other and completely tuned in to them.

Grandma #4 joined in,
"I'm just glad they are coming to church, even if they don't have on pantyhose."

"Well I remember my mama saying a lady always wears pantyhose.  Not wearing pantyhose was just trashy."

At this point, I said a silent prayer of thanks that pantyhose aren't the standard anymore.   I'm always thankful to avoid that nylon prison of torture... especially in Summer.

The commentary continued.
"People just don't know what looks nice anymore."

"It's hard to find anything that looks decent."

"And then you have to stand in a long line to pay for it."

When it was finally our turn to pay, the boy was purple from holding in his laughter.  I wasn't far behind him.  We paid, and left the 4 Grannies to solve the rest of the fashion world's problems.

Only in the South can four total strangers bond over the trashy lack of pantyhose in our society.

I only hope they don't see me on Sunday morning... without my pantyhose.