Girl Out of the Honky-Tonk

Ever heard that expression, “You can take the girl out of the honky-tonk but you cant take the honky-tonk out of the girl?” Well…

When my DB and I first got together I proudly called myself a redneck. I had the love of jacked up trucks, mud rallies, beer-drink-boys, “shootin’ shit”, small towns, rodeo, country music, and to top it off I had a mouth that could put a sailor to shame…(okay so maybe a few of the above could be true today). I remember when we headed out to our first dinner function together, it was a formal affair at a very nice restaurant in the city and I was young enough that my hands shook with nerves as I got dressed trying to figure out how to play the high-class woman when I was nothing but a small-town girl. If it was one thing I knew- these boys wouldn’t be impressed by a vintage Coors shirt cut too short or my cowboy boots with genuine horse shit on the heels- oh no sir-ee!…

I put on everything new- tall, strap back pumps, a black and oh-so-sexy power suit cut to my shape topped with enough bling at my ears and throat to make it all look Hollywood glam. I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman…only minus the whole hooker bit.

My stomach was a knot of anticipation thinking that unlike Viv there was no handy concierge for a last minute “what fork is what” lesson and to make matters worse we were running late, the car was waiting and I was missing the back to my earring. My nerves, already frayed, decided this minor problem rated as certain catastrophe and so I set madly about the house looking under every table and chair for a not-so- proverbial needle in the haystack. The only thing standing between me, the perfect outfit and my least thread of my sanity was that itty bitty piece of medal. DB, in typical unsympathetic male fashion called to me “I am getting in the car. Forget the damn earrings. We’ve got to go!”
Panic set my cheeks flaming as a cold sweat broke out over my body. My search continued- it had to be here! But it was no use. Just then- an idea!

Not a moment later I was floundering my way out the door, my feet slick with sweat and teetering like a new foal in too- high heels.

I settled back in the plush leather seat, gasping at the cool air-conditioned air and waited for my pulse to return to even. DB turned in his seat to look me up and down with unconcealed awe. Seeing that look was worth all the effort- and then some. He leaned over to murmur huskily in my ear, “You look like a million dollars”. As he pulled back his eye fell on my earrings with a smile, “Oh you found the back?”
I shook my head and grinned- half sheepish, half smug, “Not really but I made it work.”
There was a glint in his eye- he knew me all too well, “What do you mean?”
I just turned, smiled real slow and said, “Honey, you can take the girl out of the honky-tonk but you cant take the honky-tonk out of the girl.”
I fingered my ear and cocked my head so he could see. There, wound neatly around the end and holding my earring firmly in place was the unmistakable gray of the always handy, but rarely handsome duct tape.
That night, whenever my nerves got the best of me I only had to think of my earring taped to my ear- Red Green style- to remind me of who I was.

Today I felt much the same as that night so long ago.

This afternoon I had my first English riding lesson. Before I left for the barn I was a bundle of nerves, feeling out of place and out of sorts. I didn’t have the right clothes, boots or gear. I knew from previous experience that half-chaps, (a leather sheath that protects your inner calve from being chaffed by the stirrup leathers) could mean the difference between a good ride and a distracting pinch or sore. I fretted between spending the $45 for a pair or holding off until I was sure this was something I’d do more than once.

This afternoon I had a fantastic riding lesson. It was incredible. I loved every single minute of it. The horse was awesome, the instructor, amazing and I had FUN to boot. And through it all I took some small comfort in knowing that I wore my favorite, unforgivably ugly and distinctly western boots and under my jeans- redneck half chaps….more commonly known as vet wrap.