Beer bong in a cocktail dress and high heels. TSM.

I’m only dating my fratdaddy because our Greek colors match. TSM.

Being told at the bar that I was “too pretty to be pre-med.” TSM.

I’ve never worn black and brown. TSM.

I had my wedding ring, dress, flowers, colors and reception hall planned since I was in 6th grade. TSM.

Daddy doesn’t approve of my boyfriends until he sees their golf swings. TSM.

You know that recruiter that everyone is trying to get an interview with? He works for my dad. TSM.

Some people call it being a bitch, I call it having standards. TSM.

Taking patron shots in honor of our pipes finally defrosting after 4 days and finally being able to do the dishes. TSM.

Plan B and prayers. TSM.

Party with the Deltas. Shack with the Omegas. TSM.

Managing to fit everyone’s face in one picture. Sorority Squat. TSM.

Only shopping at boutiques because you don’t want to be caught dead wearing the same outfits GDIs can buy in malls. TSM.

Buying a white Lilly dress just to wear to rituals. TSM.

Left my marble rolling pin at my Frat Daddy’s. Rolling out homemade noodles with a bottle of Grey Goose. TSM.

Dad and Mom flying me and my frat daddy home to watch the Superbowl with Jerry and his family in their personal box. TSM.

We get called a lot of things, but “fat” is never one of them. TSM.

In elementary school I was always the kid with the 96 pack of Crayolas, not the 10 pack of RoseArt. TSM.

Stopped doodling my monogram in class to momentarily pay attention when my professor mentioned the Mason-Dixon Line. TSM.

Spray tans and bikini waxes at the house before semi. TSM.