Playing intramurals in leggings, a cardigan, and a bow. TSM.
Playing intramurals in leggings, a cardigan, and a bow. TSM.
Saving him in my phone as “Martin DodgedABullet.” TSM.
“So I know I start a lot of stories like this, but I read the most precious article on TSM…” TSM.
Checking yourself out every time you walk passed anything remotely reflective. TSM.
Being told you’re intimidating and taking it as a compliment. TSM.
“We’re fighting, he just doesn’t know it yet.” TSM.
The Christmas tree isn’t the only thing getting lit this holiday season. TSM.
Having a minor panic attack when your little mentions how excited she is to be a big next year. TSM.
Saving guys in your phone, not by name, but by what you think of them. TSM.
Boots, boys, and bows. TSM.
Screaming and crying as you run to hug your little in the middle of chapter when she asks you to be her bridesmaid during her officer report. TSM.
I can’t date HIM! My first son needs a numeral. TSM.
Getting momentarily jealous when girls in your pledge class want to hang out with your big, then remembering the best big chose you. TSM.
Being his brothers’ favorite girlfriend. TSM.
When people accidentally call you by your big’s name because you are eactly like her. TSM.
Your finals week Adderall supply conveniently helping with your pre-Christmas break crash diet, as well as your GPA. TSM
Nationals just retweeted me, so I’m pretty much famous. TSM.
I will never, ever, ever get my shit together. TSM.
Not feeling the need to diet after the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. TSM.
Being the couple that girls “aww” over and the girlfriend that boys high-five over. TSM.