If These 10 Things Make Sense to You, You’ve Been in Tennessee Far Too Long

Tennessee, where the mountains sing, the music never stops, and every gas station sells both moon pies and motor oil. It’s a state where directions involve “the old Piggly Wiggly,” Dolly Parton is a saint, and you’ve been stuck behind a tractor on a highway more than once. If these ten things hit a little too close to home, congrats—you’ve been in Tennessee far too long, and you probably say “bless it” at least once a day.

You’ve said “Bless your heart” and meant it every possible way.

From sympathy to sass to silent judgment—it’s all in the tone.

You think Dolly Parton should have her own monument on the state flag.

Honestly, we’re surprised she doesn’t already.

You’ve driven through three different weather systems on the way to Walmart.

Tennessee weather is just four seasons fighting in a Cracker Barrel parking lot.

You’ve fiercely debated which is better: Memphis BBQ or Nashville hot chicken.

Trick question—they’re both life-changing and should never be disrespected.

You’ve given directions using old landmarks like “where the Shoney’s used to be.”

And somehow, everyone still knows what you mean.

You’ve seen a pickup truck hauling hay, a boat, and three dogs—and thought nothing of it.

Bonus points if the truck had at least one broken taillight.

You measure distance in time, not miles.

“It’s about 20 minutes that way if you don’t hit traffic or cows.”

You’ve attended church, a country concert, and a county fair all in the same day.

And you wore the same boots to all three.

You’ve heard “Rocky Top” more times than the national anthem.

And if you’re a Vols fan, it’s your actual ringtone.

You’ve eaten biscuits and gravy for breakfast and pie for dinner—and felt no shame.

In Tennessee, carbs are a food group and a coping mechanism.

If you read this list while sipping sweet tea, swatting a mosquito, and trying to remember where you put your camo hoodie, welcome—you’ve been in Tennessee far too long. Whether you’re in the Smokies, the suburbs of Nashville, or deep in a holler with no cell signal but perfect fried okra, you’ve earned your Volunteer State badge. Just keep your manners sharp, your biscuits fluffy, and your radio tuned to something with a fiddle in it.

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