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That it would take such an act to give her a measure of country-music street cred, as it were, seems even sillier when you consider Underwood’s life to date. She was born in 1983 and grew up in Checotah, Oklahoma, on a nearly 200-acre patch of pasture and farmland. The pasture was on old rodeo grounds, where there was still a corral, a bathroom, and large overhead lights that had been used for nighttime shows but no longer worked. Her father raised cattle, which he sold at market to supplement his income from a paper mill, and her mother taught elementary school. She is the youngest of three girls, the other two older than her by 13 and 10 years, respectively. Underwood’s sisters proved to be an important part of her musical influence, as they listened to ’80s pop when she was growing up. Her parents favored oldies. But most of her friends in Checotah listened to country music. So it was she who introduced her parents to the fiddle-rich music of folks like Randy Travis and Martina McBride. Underwood would sing at church and festivals while she was growing up, but she wasn’t being groomed to be a child star. In fact, she liked to sing only at out-of-town events, because the local kids would make fun of her whenever she would sing in Checotah (which her mother sometimes convinced her to do). But that was just typical kid cruelty. Underwood says those days shaped more than just her singing style. “I really appreciate where I grew up,” she says. “My parents were very poor, and they worked very hard to make sure that my sisters and I were never without. I never went without anything that I needed, ever. And just being able to run around outside -- I don’t think my parents ever had to worry about me. Being raised in a small community made me who I am.” Underwood studied at Northeastern State University in Tahlequah, Oklahoma. After her sophomore year, she began performing at a summer festival at the university. The theater she sang in was small, with maybe 200 stiff, uncomfortable seats, but the experience gave her just enough confidence to think she should try out for something larger and to dream a little bigger. One evening before the start of her final semester, she was at her parents’ home in Checotah, watching a newscast about American Idol tryouts in Cleveland. Hopefuls were camping out, and a reporter was interviewing those in line. On a whim, Underwood went to her computer to see how close to Checotah the traveling auditions would be held. The closest scheduled stop was St. Louis -- eight hours away. Shoot, she thought. Not this year. A little later, her mother approached her. “If you want to go, I’ll take you,” she offered. Underwood refused. “It’s dumb. They’ll cut me. There’s no way,” she said. “We would drive up there for nothing.” That night, she reconsidered. She was about to graduate. Realistically, once she got a job and moved away, she would never be in a position to try this again. It might be her only shot. The audition was on a Sunday. She performed at her university Saturday night and then loaded into the car with her mother and a friend, driving all night to St. Louis. She arrived an hour before the eight a.m. check-in deadline and then waited all day before being called in. She belted out a Martina McBride song and was shocked when she was asked back the following day. The crazy train of fame then whisked her away. What followed was her well-chronicled rise on America’s number one television show, where she won over fans as a small-town girl with a big voice and Disney-quality beauty. Even though she had a tough battle with Bo Bice in her quest to be named season four’s American Idol, show producer Cowell never had a doubt about the nation’s next country sensation. “It was like everyone that year had auditioned in black and white,” he told Entertainment Weekly. “She was the only one who came in full color.” PERHAPS THE WORST (certainly the most frequent) uncomfortable moment for Carrie Underwood, The Girl, is seeing the way Carrie Underwood, The Celebrity, is treated in the media. True, people love a small-town success story. But it bothered her that the Idol folks somehow managed to air “every dumb thing” she said. “If you follow someone around 24 hours a day, seven days a week, chances are they’re going to say something stupid,” she says, laughing. She felt she was portrayed as the country bumpkin, when in reality, she was like any other college student. Her mother has a master’s degree, for crying out loud. Also, there are the tacky accoutrements of fame all young stars are forced to endure: having your dating life played out in supermarket magazines for every young fan to see, having every reaction scrutinized by the press (so if you don’t wail when someone is kicked off American Idol, you’re branded as cold or unfeeling), and having gossip hounds take quotes out of context, thus eliminating sarcasm from your humor bank. “It’s just a strange thing to get used to,” Underwood says. “And to read blatant lies is odd too. To have family members and friends calling me and saying, ‘I heard you did this,’ or, ‘[I heard] you’re dating so-and-so.’ It’s just like, no, it’s a lie. I read in a magazine one time -- this is how stupid it can get -- that my favorite food at a particular restaurant was something that had meat in it, and I’m like, if they had looked up anything, anybody who knows anything about me would have said, ‘No, it’s not. She’d never eat that: She’s a vegetarian.’ I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. I’m just trying to tolerate it and deal with it as best I can. “It’s hard, though,” she continues. “I want people to like me. I’ve always been that way, so to have something negative, I automatically want to come out and defend myself, and sometimes I have to be reminded that it’s just going to make things worse if I do. So, you just kind of have to sit back and bite your tongue. I know the truth. I know what kind of person I am. I’m trying to be content in that and not really worry so much about what everybody else thinks.”
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