My obsession with Lisa Frank matured into an obsession with Lilly Pulitzer. TSM.
My obsession with Lisa Frank matured into an obsession with Lilly Pulitzer. TSM.
Conferring with your friends about how long to wait before texting him back. TSM.
60% chance of rain, 100% chance of rainboots. TSM.
You and your little accidentally giving each other the same Christmas gift. TSM.
Becoming irrationally excited upon finding out Disney movies have been added to Netflix. TSM.
I’ve found I flourish best in my college town, where binge drinking and extra-large frockets are the norm. TSM.
Taking your birth control after your drunken mid-party hookup. TSM.
Being at the house more often than your own dorm room. TSM.
Taking “You’re just like your big” as the best compliment ever. TSM.
Your entire chapter calling your Little “Mini” because you’re exactly alike and have the same first name. TSM.
Crafting, baking, and drinking winter break away. TSM.
Being the biggest drunken mess Saturday night, but the most impeccably dressed Sunday at chapter. TSM.
I’d never make Fun Bobby quit drinking. TSM.
Being able to easily spot your pink luggage at the airport. TSM.
Judging people based on how they hold their wine glasses. TSM.
Knowing exactly when a situation calls for a bitch fit, and when it calls for the occasional “you’re so manly and wonderful” white flag. TSM.
The sigh of physical alleviation once you’re finally done doing your hair. TSM.
Santa went to Lilly. TSM.
Even Siri calls me “Princess.” TSM.
Your boyfriend coming to terms with the fact that he will find glitter somewhere on his body after hooking up in your room. TSM.