i have no secrets...

true story. if you want to know something about me...ask. i am usually just chomping at the bit to talk about myself. i mean, let's be honest. some people, however, over share. you know the type. instead of saying my tummy hurts, they exclaim in graphic detail how their women's problems really cramp their style. or instead of saying, where is your restroom, they announce what is about to go down once they get behind a stall door. i mean, really, is information always necessary? because in LOTS of situations i'm inclined to say that don't ask don't tell is a fair policy. but some people...
today i set out on a lunchtime adventure with a co-worker. our lunch conversations never lack substance, never lack humor, never lack a certain inappropriate fun factor, but they are typically our conversations. we have mastered the art of telling the whisper joke. we have perfected the art of pointing out "that person" without calling attention to ourselves. we are pros at leaving just enough to the imagination that the innocent bystander (if eavesdropping) would be curious and confused all at the same time. we are southern women and we know how to act.
but back to lunch...today we shared our area with some tourists from the north. we often share lunch with tourists since we live in a tourist town, but this day was extra special. these sweet visitors who are gladly pumping money into our local economy were textbook tourists. they were pale (with the exception of their sunburned necks), they were toting nylon backpacks, they were wearing sandals that would make you squirm, and dear old dad was sporting jorts. yes, they were textbook. but, what came from their mouths was neither anticipated, appropriate, nor quiet. and i loved the nightmare for all it was...awful.
the poor daughter was dressed like a hobo. every item was striped, bright, and too small. a happy as a lark little mis-matched girl. a girl who clearly has some concept of fashion (some tiny concept) but was stifled by her anti-stylish mom. when this little girl took a spot on the bench to wait she could not help but call attention to her mom's poor choice in apparel. "ugh, mom's wearing her spandex again." insert my giggle here. i was loving the honesty...until...mom replied in a loud and rather nasal sounding voice "yes, i am. when i get wet i chafe."
BOOM. what the crap just happened?! how do i not pee my pants with laughter? how do i not jerk my head around to look? how do i not yell "ewww!"? how do i stay calm and collected, and better yet, how will my friend not jump at this opportunity to bust a gut?
like i said before, us southern ladies know how to act...so we convulsed silently and waited for the traveling side show to leave our ear shot. then, we lost it. really? was that real life? did she say "wet" and "chafe" in one sentence? was that really out loud? was her husband not about to die of embarrassment? does she always share so so so very much info with the general public? and for goodness sake where was she going that needed a spandex lining?! (we could only hope dollywood's water ride department) regardless, it seems as if that conversation was neither well placed, well planned, nor well received.
again, as an over talker myself i know the temptation to be a goober. i know it is hard to stop yourself once your mouth is open and words are in progress. i know it is so easy to blurt a response. but i also know it is not always smart...and well, i always want to seem smart :)
so here's to the ladies who talk to loud in public--no we don't care what you ate for lunch or who you ate with, but we'll get over it. here's to the gals who can't keep a secret--secretly, we love all the information you share and would never admit to being closet busy bodies. here's to the females who must have the last word--we know it's a sickness and really you can't help it. and here's to the gals who tell way too much--please know chafing is never an appropriate subject for public places. and, chances are, the details of your child's birth, your recent stomach bug, the surprise romantic weekend, or your recent trip to the lady doctor are also not appropriate topics for the waiting area at your (or someone else's) local cafe.

p.s. jorts are so 1986...please have your husband return them to the decade in which he found them. bless his heart.