Big/Little Week: The Not-So-Magical Other Side

During Recruitment, you are constantly telling PNMs about Big/Little week and how it was the highlight of your first semester. It pumps the girls up that some day soon, they’ll have a Big of their very own. If it’s your first time recruiting, and you are now on the market for a Little, all of your enthusiasm about it is absolutely valid. You remember how amazing that week was. Surprises and treats every day, presents and decorations galore, the pranks (like all of your bras being zip-lined across the common room you could have done without, but wow is your Biggie Boo creative and funny), and glitter. SO. MUCH. GLITTER. All of the new lettered shirts you got made you that much more excited for initiation when you’d finally get to wear them, and the constant attention and love made you love your Big with all your heart without even knowing who she was. The whole ordeal was fun, trying to guess who this perfect girl was and what family you’d finally be a part of, and when, at reveal, the girl who had already made this sorority home to you, welcomed you with open arms into her family, it was just enough to make you cry tears of joy. Ok, so you were that girl. You actually did cry, but embarrassing as it was, you couldn’t help yourself. The most incredible girl you’ve ever known is your Big! She chose you!

All the excitement has made you eager to spoil your own Little some day! You’ve spent an exorbitant amount of time crafting for her, making her letters, planning out special themes for each night, buying her all of her presents, and making the heart-wrenching decision of which function shirts you’ll keep and which ones you’ll pass down. After weeks (ok, after a whole year) of preparation, it’s finally the night…you get the list and you discover you’ve gotten the Little of your dreams! Let the fun begin! So you think…

I’m here to tell you, when you’re a big…Big/Little week fucking sucks. That magic you felt all week long as a little? Yeah, that doesn’t exist. There is no magic. You know who your little is, you couldn’t forget it if you tried. She is literally going to be the only thing on your mind until revelation. For the next week, every waking moment is going to be spent making sure everything goes just right which is way more stressful than you’d anticipated.

First of all, getting into her building is impossible, and you have to figure out how to do it every day. Her geed roommate is uncooperative and can’t be bothered with letting you in. You make awkward conversation with her as you decorate, and if it looks could kill you would have just been murdered, resurrected, and shot down dead another time. She’s worse than your little ball of perfection said. Alright bitch, I get it. You didn’t get a bid. You didn’t deserve one.

When actually decorating, everything is a disaster. Nothing will stay in place. You can’t find a floormate to harbor all of her underwear for you and you’re terrified she’s going to walk through the door any minute. Your Big is not quite as helpful as you’d hoped she’d be because it was nice out, so she “accidentally” went to the bar to day drink for three hours with her big (who’s a senior and they “need to spend every last minute together before she leaves me you’ll understand next year”) and is now sufficiently wasted. Luckily, you brought in your best friend as a reinforcement because you knew that lush would probably do this at least two of the nights, but that means you’re going to have to repay the bestie by helping out with her little too…meaning you need to go through all of this twice.

The absolute most stressful part is planning out deliveries. After you’ve rushed around campus decorating for your little and your bestie’s little, now you have to go coordinate with some boy to make sure he’s available at the same time your littleface is available to bring her some sort of surprise. And it’s not like you can just send him alone, of course (unbeknownst to her) you need to be there, listening right outside her door to the whole thing. But perhaps the most difficult part about all this is actually finding guys to do your deliveries. You have a hard enough time getting boys to even talk to you during the day, now you need to ask them for favors? “Hey, how would you feel about bringing fish food ice cream, actual fish food, and this beta fish to my little whom you’ve never met and definitely don’t care about tonight? It’s beach theme soo…Oh, and would you mind also playing the guitar and singing her the parody I wrote to Bruno Mars’ Grenade?” Despite popular belief, he’d rather be at the bar. If you haven’t done enough baking this whole fucking week for your little princess, you can bet your bottom dollar (kidding, your dollars, just like your margaritas, are bottomless, but you get the point) that you’re going to have to whip up something spectacular for each of the boys that helped you too. And don’t you even THINK about taking the easy way out by not giving her a delivery for a night. If you do that, you’re a bad big, and she’ll hate you. Kidding, but still, your big came through, and you have to too.

Not to mention, how absolutely atrocious it is when you run into her. All you can think about is “don’t fuck up.” So naturally, you fuck up. When she doesn’t catch you mentioning that you think her roomie is a bitch too, you decide (or you hope anyway) that she might be dumber than you thought, or else she’s just being nice (more likely). Either way, your Big is an expert and can figure out how to undo all of the damage. You knew she was good for something.

As stressful as this whole process is, I imagine it to be a lot like labor. All of the pain and misery from the week is erased the second you see her shining face for the first time as mother and child. Plus her undying unconditional love and adoration for you makes it worth it. And look on the bright side, at least you don’t have twins. And if you do, well…Good luck.

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Veronica Ruckh

Veronica (@VeronicaRuckh) is the Director of Total Sorority Move for Grandex, Inc. After having spent her undergraduate years drinking $4 double LITs on a patio and drunk texting away potential suitors, she managed to graduate with an impressive GPA and an unimpressive engagement ring -- so unimpressive, in fact, some might say it's not there at all. Veronica has since been fulfilling her duties as "America's big," a title she gave to herself with the help of her giant ego. She has recently switched from vodka to wine on weekdays. Email her at

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