As I plan the first of many of my summer adventures into , this Southern girl feels the push and pull between my roots and the fabulousness of living close to everything! So Anna Mitchael's journey of self-discovery really hit home with me. The entire title speaks for itself - Just Don't Call Me Ma'am: How I Ditched the South, Forgot My Manners, and Managed to Survive My Twenties with (Most of) My Dignity Still Intact.
Her story begins in 2nd person, which was brilliant. She walked you through the awful break-up discussion we've all had. The memoir is then organized by what Mitchael will answer to. For example, each chapter is entitled, "Call Me a Foodie" or "Call Me a Partner in Crime." Each chapter meanders (and if I'm being honest, wanders a bit) through the mistakes of her twenties and what in her Southern roots caused these problems. Unlike a lot of chick lit, Mitchael doesn't whine about her current pickle; instead, her pithy writing speaks for itself. Exhibit A: "Other people had the kinds of grandmas who baked cookies with you, and grandpas who sat you in their laps and told inspirational stories about the Great Depression. My grandpa encouraged my success with a plastic poolstick" (19). From this one sentence you can feel her mixed emotions about her childhood without a paragraph full of "Why didn't my family blah, blah, blah?"
Exhibit B: She discusses the universal loathing of being a bridesmaid. But in lieu of whining, she says, "Because really, is there anything better than spending a in the middle of someone else's family drama? Raising a glass to the happy couple, the stoned younger brother of the bride, the overbearing mother of the groom - it's like being a fly on the wall of someone else's Thanksgiving Day pain" (51).
While the topics may be common chick lit territory, her spin is unique and funny!