The White Trash Theory

I have long believed in a theory that throughout my life has been repeatedly shown to be true. We are all what I affectionately call "white trash". The vast majority of the population would adamantly, even vehemently deny this claim but as I stated earlier, while giving lip service to how far from the truth that term is in describing themselves, they are secretly living the life they pretend to look down on. My theory goes on to explain how this can be…all of us are white trash but some of us are just better at hiding it than others. Some of us choose to repress this side of ourselves while others have learned to embrace it and I am convinced live much simpler, happier lives. I was contemplating this theory as I was driving my white mini-van to Wal-Mart the other day. You see, just moments earlier I had been caught in my pajamas by my sister-in-law who showed up at my door to see if I needed help with anything. I told her how desperate I was for a quick trip to the grocery store and she told me she would gladly watch the kids while I went. A mother with a 3 year old, 2 year old, and 7 week old does not have to be asked twice when offered a trip to Wal-Mart alone but I did face a dilemma. I was standing in my pajamas, unwashed, not groomed, and smelly but my 2 year old was sound asleep in my bedroom. If I went in to remedy all these hygiene problems, I would most likely wake him up and make him hysterical and inconsolable that I was leaving him. If I went in my pajamas with all the previously mentioned situations hovering about me, well, then, I would…and there it stopped. I put on a different pair of pants that I sometimes refer to as "lounge pants" (pajama bottoms being worn as clothing), grabbed the first pair of shoes I saw (a pair of clogs that my 2 year old has slowly been unraveling the wool covering off for the last 2 months) and a stale, half eaten candy cane. In hindsight, I’m 50% certain I was wearing a bra and 100% certain that the faint odor in the car was not the horse farm but I. And there I was. No shame, no regrets, just 60 minutes of freedom at Wal-Mart. Several years ago it might have taken a more significant effort to excite me the way I felt excited driving to Wal-Mart, but now I am a girl of simple pleasures. And speaking of simple pleasures…
Who hasn’t secretly longed for a comfy, old couch that they could plop on their front porch and spend long summer nights lounging on? Or how many of us have wished we could abandon the bras and tighty-whitey underwear for tank tops and Daisy Duke shorts on those hot summer days? In all seriousness, do we really fail to see the benefits of Astroturf outside? And how many times have I thought that a plastic pink flamingo really would look cute nestled in the front flowerbed? You may deny it, but wouldn’t life just be easier if we could skip the pretenses and devote all that brainpower to figuring something else out? I’m certain that if spent even half the brain time and power that we devote to contemplating how others are going to perceive us and our image, we would have some of these really big, sticky world problems figured out. So go ahead, pull out that couch, grab a cold can of something and go lay on the porch. You’d be surprised at how much of yourself you’ll find there.