White Trash or Fabulously Trashy?

White trash can be fabulously trashy.  It’s all in one’s perspective.

I picked up all kinds of trashy tips from my youth – like wrapping a can of pop (soda, Coke, whatever area of the world you live in insert word here) in aluminum foil is a poor gal’s koozie (my mom would do this to chill my beverage for field trips), keeping a wet wash cloth in a plastic baggie is just the same (and much cheaper) than a wet wipe (again, my clever mother), and ketchup between two slices of bread will make you feel like a chef (my genius shining through).

Ketchup sandwich for one, please.

Ketchup sandwich for one, please.

Any of these tips ring a bell to you? If not, you’re a classy person – in my book anyway.

To me, being white trash is knowing better (eating the piece of cheese after removing the moldy corner, blaming the broken basketball hoop on me, your cousin when I saw you break it with my own two eyes, proudly announcing that your entire family’s favorite movie is National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (hence the trashy category Grizzies on this blog), digging the bag of chips out of the garbage because you want to be sure you ate them all or wearing the mini skirt with the heels that are just a tad too high) but doing it anyway, while not giving a rat’s ass what anyone thinks.

A mini minus the heels.

An early mini minus the heels.

I grew up in a rural Iowa town where it was a big deal if Dad decided to get a Casey’s gas station pizza on Friday night, a small hog (yes hog, not dog) house served as my backyard playhouse where mud pies were served abundantly and you were never short a friend or cousin to play alongside (and Mom could care whether her child was mistaken for smoking a cigarette – OK, she might of cared but still).

Smoking deck for my cousin and me.

Good old candy cigarettes on the smoking deck after a long day of play for my cousin and me.

I was also raised in a world where it was perfectly acceptable (in my family, anyway) to come home from the pool for lunch, play a round of baseball with Dad in the yard (not opting for a wardrobe change – sticking with the classy bathing suit), then head back to swim the rest of the day away.

Quick round of batting practice while home from the pool

Quick round of batting practice while home from the pool.

Being in a small town, we made our own fun. If there were no toys around or activities for a kid to do, my parents entertained me with a brown grocery bag, which I obviously enjoyed with enthusiasm.

No toys? No problem. A paper bag will do the trick.

No toys? No problem.

Preschool graduation days were also classily creative due to my mother’s knack of using paper and plastic bowl in lieu of a real hat.

Graduation day at its finest.

Graduation day at its finest.

Oh the tricks of the trade we acquire while growing up.

White trash? Or fabulously trashy?

Fabulous in my book.



60 thoughts on “White Trash or Fabulously Trashy?

  1. […] few years ago I was dying to dress up as Kid Rock and needed a trashy Pamela Anderson to hang all over me.  Because my dad is no stranger to the spotlight (and always […]

  2. I was doing pretty good until I got to the part about Christmas Vacation, that is our hands down favorite, we watch it every Christmas! Loved the trip down memory lane!

  3. Wait, are we the same person? Or did we grow up in the same neighborhood that brought Texas and Iowa together through some wormhole? Because all of that sounded so familiar. And comforting.

  4. marisaporter says:

    I like this post. It sounds like fabulously trashy is small town nostalgia and country “Small Town Girl” by Kelly Pickler. I love all of that. Nice description of both!! Keep these posts coming. 🙂

  5. SerachShiro says:

    Great story about how you was grown up, You have a lovely family and I love all that fabulous trash 🙂

  6. totally fabulous!! love the throwback pics and def still do the washcloth in a baggie thing too!! 🙂

  7. Thank you for sharing your tips with us; think I may stick with banana sandwiches though

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