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I was looking through old photos with my grandma when I came across yirl sepia-toned image of a handsome teenage boy, slack jawed, barefoot and shirtless, sitting in his yard. An old woman wearing wire frame glasses and a simple cotton dress sat to his right; a young man with a pile of curly hair and an open button-up shirt to his left. Here was photographic evidence.
A teenager myself when I found the photo, nothing could've been more humiliating.
So true I choose country life over city life any day, pulse city life is depressing and and not as fun as being a country girl (I know from experience, I almost became a city girl until I .. Some people want a big house, a fast car, and lots of money. Petit Cowboy, Farm Girl Quotes, Country Life Quotes, Country Girl Life, Cute . This is where I would like to live Ranch Life, Dirt Road Quotes, Country. When a city girl gets a taste of country living and it changes her Heck, I wanted to live in New York city, the mecca of fast paced life. city girl.
Try as I might to fit in with the wealthy suburbanites at my middle school, the Coach-toting girls, the ones who spent spring break in the Caribbean, there was no denying my ancestry: We were country.
My embarrassment over my rural roots began in elementary school.
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There, I learned to downplay my Southern accent. It was partly intentional, partly environmental.
Even though we were an hour from the city, in a bedroom community of Atlanta, so many people had moved to our town's cookie-cutter neighborhoods from other parts of the U. My family had been in the area for at least seven generations, by some counts.
I knew they thought I sounded like Gomer Pyle. lkfe
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So I adapted. I hated country music. Those slow, twang-y voices and pitiful stories of bar fights, cheating spouses, and scraping one's way up from the bottom were like nails on a chalkboard to me.
With everyone from my little brother to Alvin and the Chipmunks singing the song, I found no reprieve. The summer before my freshman year of high school, my parents moved us farther out into the country, past anything that could reasonably be considered the suburbs.
Upon hearing the news, my friends did their best Larry the Cable Guy impressions, their interpretations of what my future classmates would sound like. Even though our new home was much nicer than our previous one, I was embarrassed by its location way off the highway, a mile down a dirt road, surrounded by forest. Our water came from a well and there was no such thing as pizza delivery or garbage pickup. Most of my new friends lived "in town.
When it came time to apply for college, I only considered schools in major cities. No small town, football-loving institutions for me. I wanted culture, so I chose the best option at the time, a public university in Atlanta where I could get in-state tuition.
After college, living in New York was my dream, but I bounced around for several years while I worked up the courage, and cash, lfe move there. Now I live in Brooklyn and take the subway into Manhattan five days a week for a cushy magazine job. I This city girl wants a country life my coffee at a bodega and my groceries, wine, sushi, and just about anything else I need delivered directly to my shoebox apartment.
I love Women wants nsa Wink films, art museums, fashion, and live jazz—interests I aants to indulge in the Big Apple, in ways I never could in my hometown. But those pleasures come with a price.
The women, especially, came out of the woodwork to congratulate me. At least two of them, I suspect, have been subscribers since the magazine was just an offshoot of Good Housekeeping.
My sister laughed at the irony. A good friend questioned it: I spend my days writing about gorgeous farmhouses, home renovationsfurniture makeovers, and tasty recipes.
All things I love but have little day-to-day interaction with.
There's no house to renovate, no workspace for updating a thrifted dresser, and very little counter space for cooking as it is, my kitchen has just enough room for storing takeout leftovers. It pains me knowing that, were I still in the country, it'd be an easy fix: There are more stars than you can count in This city girl wants a country life night sky above my childhood home, the house my parents built in the middle of nowhere Georgia, on 20 acres of land my granddad purchased as a newlywed.
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I think back on that first summer living there, days bookended by want sounds of whippoorwills in the mornings, and the howl of distant coyotes, pierced by the occasional cry Looking for a cheerleader type girl a screech owl, at night. Our closest neighbors, down the road but not visible w our house, were my grandparents and my uncle. I wish I could tell my younger self that the conveniences and This city girl wants a country life of city living pale in xountry to the beauty of nature.
Lots and lots of puppies. I plan on becoming a crazy dog lady in old age. I'll sit on my front porch and sip This city girl wants a country life tea and listen to Dolly Parton. Maybe I'll even kick off my shoes and mosey into the front yard for a hillbilly portrait.
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