Two Different Kinds of Southern

My mom was raised by good mountain folk in the backwoods of North Carolina.  My father was raised by southern aristocrats in the foothills of North Carolina.  Same state, completely different upbringing, so what do they have in common?  Me.  I am their heritage-challenged child and since I was a young I have struggled with the search for my southern identity.

Am I a Sallie Mae or a Daisy Mae?
Do I wear a ball gown or cut-off shorts?
Should I put on lipstick or load my gun?

(Note: For those of you who aren't up to date on your southern icons, Sallie Mae Ward was considered to be THE southern belle of her time and Daisy Mae Duke is the famous wearer of Daisy Duke shorts - think Dukes of Hazzard).

In every situation, I always feel the pull to be both.  That is especially true when I am home in the sticks of North Carolina.

When I go out to my sister's house I feel the need to dig through my drawer and find a browning shirt or a cut-off NASCAR shirt - something to proclaim my loyalty to the redneck lifestyle.

When I go visit my father's extended family I break out my pearl necklace, cardigan, and lipstick - anything to proclaim my loyalty to the southern elite and show I was raised to be a docile southern woman.

I have loyalty to both.  Extreme loyalty.  On one hand, I have a pink browning decal on my SUV.  On the other hand, I never, and I mean never, leave the house without my pearl earrings.

I'm too prissy for the rednecks and too rough for the elitists.  So where do I fit in?

I suppose I will just continue to parade around in my pearls and NASCAR attire until I figure it out.

But I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm Sallie Mae... I do throw a hell of a dinner party after all.