It’s been two years since we first married and although I would say that we have a great marriage, I would also say that it’s not the healthiest; emotionally healthy that is. For whenever we get out of sorts with each other, my husband typically escapes to the shower or bedroom, rather than deal with the issue. To say that he hates confrontation is an understatement; I don’t relish it either. I would rather run after him and obtain an immediate fix to our problem, so that I can be obedient to the scripture that says, “Do not let the sun set on your anger.”

The Urban Dictionary defines a Steel Magnolia as “A Southern woman who is strong and independent yet very feminine.” Talk about an understatement. Steel Magnolias have waned since the Feminist Movement when one fabricated personality replaced another.

I was raised in the South in the 50s when being feminine meant heavily starched crinolines and gloves. We wore no white after Labor Day or before Easter. By the time I was 12, I went to the Beauty Parlor every week. Big hair was important. There was no mistaking a girl for a boy back then. We were trained to be prissy and flirty. We were princesses.