You Will Be A Waste Of Life Senior Year, And You May Never Recover


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You Will Be A Waste Of Life Senior Year, And You May Never Recover

You and I, we like to joke. Make light of the situation. Crack a few smiles. It’s all in good fun, after all! Don’t take life so seriously, maaaaaan. Kick back, relax, it’s all for shits and giggles anyway!

Ah, what a young and naive attitude. And it was with this attitude that I started referring to myself as a SWUG. Oh, what’s a SWUG, you may ask? Although it recently seems to have fallen out of the youth lexicon, just a few years ago you could hear this slightly derogatory term stumble out of the glossed lips of every 21-plus co-ed north of the equator. It was usually accompanied by pinot gris-soaked breath and a eye roll that could slice a lesser human in half. Let me fill you in. It means: Senior Washed Up Girl. And it means exactly what you think it does.

Being a SWUG was an ironic point of pride. It meant you had lived and learned and were so thoroughly over everyone’s shit that you gave absolutely zero fucks. You showed up to class in workout gear and then later “dressed up” that workout gear with a pair of flats and wore it to your local watering hole. It was the best life. There were no rules, no expectations, and only laid-back, good times to be had. We could spend every other night sprawled out on the couch watching the Kardashians and stuffing our faces with Chinese food because who cared? We weren’t trying to impress anyone. We drank way too much wine and fell asleep way too early. But again, all in the name of the SWUG life. It was senior year! It wasn’t like we would get to behave like this ever again once we graduated!

Except that’s where we were wrong. Because once you SWUG, you don’t go back. Once a SWUG, always a SWUG.

The comfort of the SWUG life is what gets you first. Since graduating I don’t think I’ve ever run an errand wearing anything my mother would be proud of. I live for weekends spent in yoga pants and – GASP – I usually wear converse to bars. They’re comfy, I don’t care if they get ruined, and they make walking to and fro a treat. But it’s a real SWUG move.

Another SWUG trait that I have yet to shake? Wine. My choice of drink is still wine, wine, and – oh, yeah – more wine. I’ve never once looked at pictures of my younger self having a few brewskis and thought to myself “huh, maybe I should go back to beer.” And why should I? Wine is relatively cheap, has a fairly high alcohol content (so it’s economical), and on days where I drink red it’s heart healthy! It’s frankly irresponsible not to drink wine. SWUGs know what’s up.

And the last, but certainly not least, the SWUG-iest trait that I’ve still yet to shake? Not giving a shit about going out. Have you realized yet that going out sucks? It’s loud, you waste a ton of money on drinks and inevitable drunk food, and the next day you’re in seemingly unending misery. SWUGS have it down lock by staying in with friends. Maybe you’ll order some takeout, maybe you’ll drink some $7 dollar wine. Maybe you’ll turn in by 11:30 and wake up well rested and actually able to accomplish some stuff the next day. SWUGS get shit done.

So live and learn baby. Embrace the SWUG life, or don’t. It’ll embrace you anyway. It’s only a matter of time.


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