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"Ma'am. Ma'am?" I heard as I walked away from the counter.
"Ma'am?" Turning back around I answered the lady who had just checked me out
"Are you a real cowgirl?" She questioned.
Rewind to Tuesday when I had an appointment at the Women's Clinic OKC. The check in, the courtesy by all the ladies, and the security guard was extremely pleasant. Personally I believe they kinda enjoyed having Barbie come in for a visit. My doc Bridget was a truck load of fun too. She doesn't have a drop of country in her soul and every red neck cowgirl joke went right over her head. We did more laughing and joking than truly doctor patient exam. Then I headed to Costco to shop and pick up my prescriptions where I was greeted with smiles and "miss" from the employees. Even at the pharmacy which didn't turn out that good prescription wise. I was greeted at the check out where I joked with the help.
Forge ahead to Thursday morning to the drive down back to OKC to pick up a prescription they weren't able to fill Tuesday. I was not a happy camper as it is a 280 mile round trip. The pharmacist informed me Tuesday they don't mail out prescriptions. I knew I had read it on the Costco web side they most certainly do mail out prescription meds. Of course I down loaded all that data off the web. At the same time Tuesday I inquired about a discount prescription card and was informed there was no such animal. So..., you guessed it, I downloaded that info and printed it off before heading back Thursday. I'm loaded for bear and feeling just a little more than pissed making a second 280 mile round trip because of the help's lack of knowledge about company policy. The attractive lady, Bonnie, at the front counter was surprised when I asked about a pharmacy discount card. When I showed her the info I downloaded she checked with the manager who knew nothing about it. Both very kind and helpful but I wasn't gaining ground.
"Go check with the pharmacy. I'll walk back there with you." She offered.
"That's okay, I can take care of it. We'll see what they say." I was really wanting to wave that piece of paper in front of whoever was taking care of the pharmacy. I turned to head that way.
"Miss?"
Looking back Bonnie caught up with me. "If they give you any trouble. Let me know."
Walking back to the pharmacy I was ready to pounce with papers in hand. I wanted a discount card and I wanted prescriptions mailed if they hadn't filled them yet.
Phil looked over the papers I handed him. "Humm, the card is either issued in a different store or it's a publication error. For the discount all you need to do is fill out a form. Fill it out now and I'll discount the prescriptions."
I'm sure the disappointment showed on my face. I was so primed to be the smart ass. "That's it? Fill out a form? How long is it good for?"
"It's good for as long as you have a current membership. You don't need a Costco membership card to buy prescriptions here. You do need one to receive the discount." Keep in mind he is being very polite and courteous all the time.
After I filled out the form, I dropped four different IDs along with credit card, and Costco card on his counter.
He was looking them over when another pharmacist came out, looked at the cards and then at me. "What's your name?"
I pointed at the cards he was looking at.
"What's your real name?"
"Barbie Lee, it is what I am registered at the clinic."
"Okay, Ma'am, do you want us to put that on your prescriptions?"
Woah!, Talk about mental shock. "I don't have a legal name change and Oklahoma is pretty intolerant about those things."
"It's for your prescriptions, right? You may have any name you like on them."
I wasn't sure about that but I nodded in agreement. "Maybe we better not go that far."
"What if we make out your ID and prescriptions to Barbie first name and use your legal name to finish?"
"You don't have to do that."
Miss, we want you to be comfortable with us. We'll do whatever you want."
"That would be nice. Thank you."
I talked with both pharmacist for several minutes. They were both as nice as could be. I'm use to being treated nice at times but not like this.
Picked up groceries and checked out, again everyone was more than courteous and pleasant. Said they liked my hat and joked about stealing my broiled chicken before I made it out. Took my daughter to lunch where again everyone was overly nice and polite. She's waffling on the fence about me which I totally accept. She gave me hugs and told me how much she loved me before I headed home. I purchased her love with a chicken dinner. I know that girl. (joke)
One more stop and I'm headed home. Walmart to pick up Excedrin and Tylenol. As luck would have it, I went in the entrance on the far side from the pharmaceutical. A really long walk all the way across the store by the cash registers and dozens of customers. Almost everyone is smiling at me as I walk through the store to pick up the pills. Nothing is spilled on my blouse, we didn't have that kind of lunch. It was when I checked out and the lady gave me my change, I was walking away when he called out. "Are you a real cowgirl?"
Turning around I held my right hand out flat and rocked it back and forth. "Kinda, I no longer own any horses and it's been years since I herded any cows. I still live on the farm."
"I knew you were a real cowgirl. You're beautiful."
"Thank you. You're very kind."
A double woah here! Is today real or what? People I know what I am. I'm way past the sell before date. Way past the time when hormonaly challenged boys stopped in the street to whistle at me. Looking in the mirror, I see an old lady who is way past her prime. Growing up outside in the sun and weather isn't the best way to keep one's beauty. Provided they had any to start with. Ever woman loves compliments. I know what I am and it isn't the Rodeo Queen with her polished saddle, and her big beautiful bay mare under her.
What I wore today was nothing more than me. Starting at the top. A black felt cowboy hat with a silver band. My hair is swirls of natural curls spread over my shoulders and down my back to my shoulder blades. No longer a natural golden blonde, it's all white now. A single wide strand gold necklace. Triple heart gold earrings. Golden brown satin blouse. Jeans with a big ol wide belt and big cowboy buckle. The holster on my hip was empty. I don't carry if I can't conceal. It's still a deterrent. They never know where that pistol might be that normally resides in the holster. Brown cowgirl boots with a two inch heel.
This is me, not make believe, all my life except for the earrings and blouse. Growing up it was a shirt, heavy duty for working on the dairy, and the farm. There was always a cowboy hat on my head. I guess I have always been a cowgirl? I guess t the answer to the lady's question is yes, I'm a real cowgirl.
I pray times are changing for others as well. To be accepted for who they are. Maybe, just maybe, me and all those who have walked the path have made it a little easier for those who follow. I pray they can be honest with themselves and be accepted for who they are.
Okay ladies, saddle up. There are still demons and dragons to slay before the world accepts all of us. But they are getting smaller and fewer if today is any indication. If I have accomplished nothing else in my life, I pray God takes into account, I have tried to make it easier for others.
always
Barb
Life is a gift. Treasure it until it's time to return it.
Comments
Never thought of it :)
Growing up, I certainly did herd cattle, if you can call six steers and a milch cow a herd. :) Didn't do it on horseback, though. Just walking with a pointing stick in my hand and our 70 pound boxer at my side.
I won't call myself a cowgirl though because I knew several of the real thing who could ride and rope and sing ki-yi-yippee-ki-ay as well as any cowboy. :)
Loveya, sugar. Keep on keeping on, girl.
Hugs,
Erin
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
Erin and the Girls, their gift to all of us
Erin, my love, you, Piper, and all the girls managing BCTS have done a thousand times a thousand more than I ever have. It is you ladies gift to all of us making such a difference in the lives of all of us. Even those who only dropped in for a "free story" read sometimes get their mind and attitude adjusted. Hon, I know the long hard hours, the financial thin times, the doubt is it worth it, just trying to make a go of a business. At night when we can't sleep because so much needs to be done and we don't have the time nor the resources. With the resolve of a female who has faced fire in their lives, the next morning all of you resolve to carry on a bit longer praying for better easier times ahead.
What you are, what all the boys and girls are is not what society wanted to demand we conform to. God, we are the perfect examples of that aren't we. Most of these have lived their lives with society demanding they conform to societies rules. They refused and became their own man or woman irregardless. Or sadly, as some have, died trying.
God bless you, piper, all the ladies, that includes those who post their stories, those who donate who have made an impression, share the stories both fiction and real life. All of you are my heroes and heroines in real life. And if nothing else possibly many have learned it isn't that facade we were forced to present to the world in order to survive. It is what is inside us, in our heart, our soul, that truly defines us. And if I pick up any horses in the future, you'll be most welcome to ride by my side. If we ride down the bar ditch along I-40, we'll go deaf from all the red necks honking their horns or air horns on their trucks. Men, you gotta love em and keep in mind they are little boys at heart.
Boys, girls, society isn't all that accepting from a lot of those who think we are Satan's own set out to destroy the morals of the world. Be extra cautious, always aware. It's easy to become lax in your own safety. I've cried enough tears over girls lost. Be a survivor not one of the other statistics.
Hugs Erin, love you girl
always,
Barb
Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl
All loaded fer bear...
... and the bear didn't show up.
sorry Ray
Sorry I got hungry and ate the bear dragons need to eat to you know and we would like to not be put in the same category with demons we eat them as snacks as the taste good but have no food value.
Have a good day and enjoy life.
Much Needed
In the sewer of activity around us, your account of a "trip to town" turned me upside down.
Yes Barbie, there is decency in our everyday lives.
Thank you.
Jill
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
Jill has gave so much herself
Jill has donated time, money, and stories to BCTS. So much goes on with so many ladies, and guys, behind the scenes most never hear about. She has a business(s), coaches soccer to young uns, writes, among many of her talents. A gifted lady, one of many I have been blessed to find on BCTS.
Thank you Jill for being you and accepting nothing less. So much courage among your many talents.
hugs hon,
always,
Barb
Life is meant to be lived, not worn until it's worn out.
Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl
To be accepted for who they are.
Acceptance as who we are is a greatest gift we can get in life. I'd hazard a guess that every member of this site has spent a fair number years and even decades trying to conform society and being miserable doing it.
It wasn't until I became willing to accept the slings and arrows of that unforgiving society and simple face them a who I am that I gained any kind of acceptance. To my great surprise when I went out, confident that it didn't matter if everyone, or anyone liked me except me, presenting myself as I knew myself to be... it seemed as if no one cared one way or the other just what I was.
Just to be out and about, looking people in the eye, interacting with sales people and sometimes with people on the street and being accepted just as I was, was the most freeing thing I've experience.
My attitude about myself seemed to rub off on everyone I met. The lady in the checkout line ahead of me, the cashier at the grocery store, the gas station attendant, the mailman, and the big one... the women in the restroom; they all treated me with the respect that every human being deserves. I put it all down to me being myself without reservation determined that if I ever felt unwelcome where I was, I'd just leave without a fuss and go someplace where I was welcome. I've yet to need to do that.
I'll say it again. Acceptance is the greatest gift any one can give, or receive.
Hugs
Patricia
Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper in femineo gerunt
Ich bin ein femininer Mann
Animals know, humans write about it
Animals sense it, smell it and yet most humans in all their intelligence, or possible lack of survival instinct, fail to understand. It is the smell of what another is giving off be it confidence, fear, or other smells. That's only one of the many signals everyone constantly sends out. The other is a silent signal called many things but basically it is emotion. It can't be measure by any instrument we possess, yet. Call it the radio transmission wave which animals are sensitive to and humans consciously seem to be completely oblivious to. Yet their subconscious picks it up.
Ever wonder what the person has who walks up to a vicious dog that would tear anyone else apart and yet they don't attack? What about the horse whisper who has the magical touch with horses? The stories are endless of those who have that gift no one else has. What they have most don't is confidence in what they are doing. It's built in all through our lives in everything we do. The successful business person, the pilot, the race car driver among so many other things.
Let's plow onto the girl who steps out scared to death she will be clocked. What is the first thing that happens? She's clocked and her self esteem, confidence is shot to hell. Welcome to the spiral into the black abyss of many girls as they try again and again but that first time is pretty well locked into her persona. It's one reason I strongly suggest girls who are coming out, 'go out' with a friend whether GG or TG who have no problem with the public. A safety net if you will. I wish there was an escort service for new TG girls where they could make an appointment with a "Safety Net" for nothing more than the cost of maybe paying for a dinner and or a few drinks. An evening out with training wheels.
Telling the girls what signals they are sending out and having them understand and control all those billboard signs they are flashing all around themselves are two different things.
Hugs Patricia, may you find happiness in life
always,
Barb
Life is a one way highway. How we drive it is up to us, each individual.
Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl
Ever wonder what the person has who walks up to a vicious dog
Interesting you should mention that. Because I have that ability as well. My daughter was visiting a friend whose parents had two big doberman dogs out in their fenced yard. They were confident that no one would enter the yard when the dogs were out. I remember the look on the lady's face when she answer the door when I knocked. "How'd you get by my dogs?" she asked. "What these two? They're sweethearts," I answered as I reached down and patted one on the head and the other came over to get his share of affection.
I've only had one dog I couldn't make up to. It was vicious pit bull. It wouldn't let me make up to it and snapped at my hand when I reached out to let it smell me. It was confused that I didn't flinch and maintained its vicious stance, but wouldn't attack. Every other dog I've come in contact with has let me pet it and became my friend.
Hugs
Patricia
Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper in femineo gerunt
Ich bin ein femininer Mann
uhhhhh
I don't get this, and I am country folk. But that might be more area based than anything else as you made this sound like some sort of gloried title akin to queen....instead of the more common derogatory one.
Country Folk is Relative
Growing up in the midwest, cowboys, cowgirls, and yes Indians were a normal part of Elk City. Seldom were the cowboys wearing chaps and spurs unless they were working livestock at the stockyards, (one block from main street downtown). Nor were the Indians normally in full regalia except one time every year for the Rodeo Parade. Hundreds of Indians in full ceremonial dress, hundreds of cowboys, cowgirls, a dozen or more roundup clubs with their own Rodeo Queen, old wagons, stage coaches, etc. Only a memory now as fewer and fewer participated until the parade consisted of new farm equipment, new cars, a few wannabe cowboys and cowgirls who threw a saddle on a horse, probably borrowed the horse and saddle, and no Indians. Basically commercialized. I stopped going twenty years or more back.
Country Oklahoma and West Texas is most certainly not country California or New York. Nor are we country Minnesota or Michigan. I am part of a dying breed, one of the last of a kind. Growing up on a farm I was ridding by the time I was five, driving heavy equipment by the time I was six, rising and milking cows at four thirty every morning by age eight. Horses were secondary to the farm as equipment came first. What I represent to all those people I met the past several days is nostalgia, an era of bygone times. I would bet none of them ever met a real cowboy, cowgirl, or Indian in their lives. Their only experience is the make believe movies. The inquisitive lady in Walmart wanted to make sure she had met a real one, so she asked. "Are you a real cowgirl?" I "assume" all the other people I met last week had the same thought. They didn't ask but certainly enjoyed looking and talking to me.
Most certainly I could have blended in with the times, wore pants, tennies, or dress, flats, etc. and I bet no one would have thought anything about it. The thing is I seldom wear a dress even though I have several "put your eyes back in your head" dresses. Even if Bru, Daphne, Jill won't loan me theirs. That's all right, I remember and hold a grudge, Bitches! Maybe I need to start posting pics on Facebook so everyone can make their own judgement? All my life I have tried to stay incognito as social media is a cesspool I do not want to step into. Thus only a couple pics floating around on the web and one has to know where to look to find them. I like it like that.
Claiming one is country is like the girl from Gotebo, Oklahoma claiming she is cityfied. She might be the Deva in Gotebo, population six hundred but a lamb led to slaughter in Los Angeles or New York. It's why thousands of country boys and girls blinded by the lights of the big city, lose their lives every year. I lived in Detroit, OKC, Corpus Christ, Wichita, a half dozen more and would slit my own throat if I had to stay in any of them. I love horses and livestock, and the open country. I'm where I was born and raised and plan on dying here because I hate cities, and abhor crowds. Tolerable in small doses.
Maybe you'll meet a real cowboy or cowgirl in your lifetime if you haven't already. Probably not, they are mostly gone. Like knights, frontier settlers, a brief time in human history. I don't plan on taking that last ride anytime soon but I'm glad I'm looking at the sunset years. It's been a hell of a ride. I wouldn't trade my life for anyone else's.
hugs hon
always,
Barb
Our highway of life is never definitive but choices we make as we travel it.
Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl
You're right
Most of my relatives are country. :) Arkansas, Missouri, Mississippi, North Carolina, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Washington, Oregon, California, Nevada, Arizona -- I think the biggest town any of my kin live in is probably Jonesboro, Arkansas. :)
Pass the vinegar, wudja, my cornbread and beans is kinda dry. :)
Hugs,
Erin
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
Vinegar?
Plain? Or is there chilies soakin' in it?
Do ya eat yer grits with butter, salt, and pepper, or with sugar and milk?
Vinegar
The vinegar used on cornbread and beans is actually pickle juice, which may be from pickled peppers, if it's at the table, and apple cider vinegar if it's at the stove.
Grits are eaten with soft eggs, salt and pepper, and maybe hot sauce. Butter if you don't have eggs. Leftover grits are fried and served with butter and sorghum. My family didn't eat grits though, we ate taters: diced potatoes fried crisp.
Cush is a snack you carry with you: cornbread sliced and filled with onions, pickles and sorghum. Ham or fatback, optional.
Cornbread is made with very little sugar, or none.
Sorghum is a molasses made from sorghum cane (millet, milo) instead of sugar cane.
Hugs,
Erin
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
Started to Warn You
Ray, getting into a country discussion with Erin will make your head spin. That girl is so backwoods it's hard for the rest of us hicks to understand her. She told me a year back about a farm animal I never knew existed. I think it was a Hinny she called it. She's a walking Encyclopedia of farm and backwoods lore. I'll bet two thirds of what she knows is not in any books. If she ever wrote a book about her life, I'd buy a half dozen of them and pass them out to my friends, double dog dare them to doubt she lived that life herself. No one could make up the bits and pieces she has written and I have read over the years, Sadly like so many she is a walking historical document. When she's gone the rich stories of her life and what she experienced will be gone with her.
Gotta love that girl.
Hugs Ray
always
Barb
"The best and most beautiful things in the world can not be seen nor touched. They must be felt in the heart." Helen Keller
Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl
Book
I have written a book about parts of my life, mostly my travels before I started school. It's called "The Big Rock Candy Mountain Detour" and some chapters of it are here on BC, like, "Uncle Hank and the Cold Potato", "The Left-Handed Cantaloupe", and "Ham Biscuit on a Green Glass Plate." :)
Hugs,
Erin
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
term
What is a washbelly or warshbelly .
Have a good day and enjoy life.
Term
Probably sixty years or more since I've heard that. A warshbelly is the youngest child in a family or a lazy spoiled brat or both. :)
Hugs,
Erin
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
Vinegar!
Personally can't stand the flavor of the stuff or anything pickled due to the vinegar with the exception of the pickled peppers which I'll eat like candy :)
Now for the grits, that would depends on which meal your eating... Breakfast I like butter, salt and brown sugar or molasses. Lunch and supper, just butter and salt :)
As for beans, just made a big pot of October beans last weekend with the ham bone that was left over from thanksgiving dinner for seasoning and of course you can't have beans without cornbread and turnip greens :)
We the willing, led by the unsure. Have been doing so much with so little for so long,
We are now qualified to do anything with nothing.
As a Brit...
I’m just gob smacked at the idea of driving 280 miles for a prescription. I don’t live in a big city but I have three pharmacies within ten minutes walk, five if I get out the car and drive a few miles.
How do you manage when you’re really ill and can’t drive or when you get ancient and have to give up driving?
Most of our prescriptions now are electronic. Can’t they just post the drugs to you?
We Brits may live in a crowded country but it sure has its advantages.
The original basis was to "save" money
Costco would supply six months prescriptions for the price of one month prescription at Walmart or Walgreen. Bridget phoned the order in, instead of writing it out. Everything is good to go. The best laid plans of mice and men... You know the rest of the line. Tuesday it was set in motion which was great except they couldn't fill the order. Kinda over whelmed them. Truly, I was the first customer they had ever run into with that size of an order.
I've read the stories about traveling the English highways and none of them mention cruising a hundred miles at eighty MPH. Yes it was illegal, I was with some very fast traffic. Usually I nail cruse control on seventy four in a seventy MPH limit and get constantly passed. On an off note, ever drive Dallas? If one isn't running eighty in a sixty MPH zone they are blocking traffic on all four lanes headed the same way.
There is a Walmart five miles from me. A Walgreen six miles. A very nice taxpayer supported hospital eight miles who have no qualms about charging four dollars a pill for aspirin. Ever watch the movie "Hospital" staring George C Scott? I'm sure they got the idea for the movie from this one. Had a friend went there. His blood tests his electrolytes were too low. Nine days later he was dead. One of many horror stories about that hospital.
As an addendum to this woe begotten tail of missteps. Next time I'll phone ahead and advise them of my doctor's appointment. Barring none of my blood tests changed, Bridget will possibly refill the prescriptions. In all honesty, the trip back Thursday was more than worth it for all the people I met.
Hugs hon, have fun with life or go crazy. No other options available.
always,
Barb
Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl