I grew up in the south, that is no secret. What I have held as a closely guarded secret is when I was in grade school, I so wanted to snap my gum like the other girls. I have no idea how they made that amazing sound come out of that tiny pink rubbery goo, but it was awesome!
Then I went to boarding school… (she hangs her head in shame) Please don’t think less of me. I didn’t want to go. But what I will carry with me forever is now every time (no joke- EVERY TIME) I put a piece of gum in my mouth, I hear Mrs. Elmore say “ladies do not chew gum in public”. That and my mother’s insistence that anyone who chews gum looks like a cow chewing it’s cud. it’s bound to have some effect.
Sure enough, I have an intense sensitivity to gum chewing around me.
Enter hell. I worked in an office where the girl who sat next to me smacked gum all day long. Not only that, when she was upset, the gum smacking got louder and more animated. My head nearly exploded. Then one day I went into a meeting and EVRYONE in this meeting from the dingbat to the VP was chewing gum. Really. Really?! So, to say I am sensitive to gum chewing is the understatement of the century. Thanks Mom. (crazy- the phone just rang and it was Mom… creepy)
Enter my new semi-regular commentary on life in transit. “transit rant” Now that I’m back taking the Tri-Met that I love to work work every day, I am bombarded with these things. The first of which was that guy and his “pants“. This week it is gum.
There was a beautiful woman on the bus the other day. The first thing I noticed was her hair. Great haircut, falls just perfectly. Naturally straight. Bitch. Then her skin is flawless. Gorgeous red coat. Tapered to fit. Tall. Everything about her was immaculate. Then I saw it. Gum. chew. chew. chew.chew. chew.chew…
I leave you with a quote from my Muther (say with a strong southern accent) “oh, harras” (translation for Yankees: oh, Horrors)