Etiquette and Charm: A Course in Farmyard Recovery 101

 Etiquette and Charm: A Course in Farmyard Recovery 101

Born and raised on a farm, I was more familiar with the pecking order of chickens than the finer points of etiquette. My fashion sense was limited to hand-me-downs, and my knowledge of silverware extended only to "spoon." But I yearned for poise, to know when to raise my pinky and which fork wouldn't get me laughed out of a fancy restaurant.

My "aha" moment came courtesy of Cosmopolitan magazine. I was seventeen and mesmerized by a guide to the "perfect Cosmo lip." Hours of practice ensued – lipstick on, lipstick off, repeat – until I'd achieved that flawless pout. My mother's reaction? "What in the world? Don't you think that is a bit extreme?"

 Oh, Bless Her Heart!

Growing up in a family of eight, we'd been raised on a healthy dose of faith and the occasional apple tree switch. (Granny's lectures during the march to the orchard were always worse than the switching itself.) Determined and headstrong (or, as my family put it, "hard-headed and stubborn"), I knew I needed to learn how the "other half" lived.

Church was a weekly ritual, eight kids crammed into two pews. Misbehaving siblings got the ear-twist-and-follow treatment, complete with a whispered lecture about having a short memory and not knowing how to act. Dad's sermons always had more impact than the ones from the pulpit, leaving us intimidated and slightly afraid to blink.

But that last scolding was the final straw. I needed to get my act together.

At eighteen, I enrolled in an etiquette course. My first day was a disaster. In front of the class, the instructor pointed out my orange lipstick and blue eyeshadow – a combination she deemed "ALL WRONG!"

Deflated but determined, I washed my face and prepared for my transformation. With her tough-love approach, the instructor introduced me to the world of "violet eyes," high-arched eyebrows, and a foundation that matched my skin tone. Thankfully, she even approved of my Cosmo lip line.

I learned about my "Island" color palette, the art of entering a room (head high, like a peacock), and even the proper way to wield a fork and spoon. Walking around with a book on my head became a daily exercise in poise and posture.

By the end of the course, I was a changed woman. I wasn't just walking into rooms; I was making entrances. I wasn't just eating; I was dining. And as my Granny always said, "One day, you will be a force to be reckoned with."

Granny never lied.