Preferring pre-law boys to pre-med boys, because it’s less schooling and more First Lady potential. TSM.

Knowing when your boyfriend’s formal is before he does. TSM.

Drunkenly painting your nails and waking up to what can only be described as The Great Nail Polish Massacre of 2015. TSM.

Casually dropping your artistic abilities into conversation during formal season. TSM.

Stopping at Starbucks on your walk of shame. TSM.

Having two dresser drawers dedicated to sorority shirts. TSM.

Discussing your options for an upcoming fraternity date party like it’s your event. TSM.

“Does this outfit make me look like I’d make a good wife?” TSM.

Being the provider of everyone’s outfits for themed events. TSM.

If you’re a bird, I’m someone who shoots birds for sport. TSM.

Consulting both your planner and your best friend before making any life decision, big or small. TSM.

Chin down, arm out, and pretend like you’re laughing. TSM.

Post-recruitment dance parties, because you love your sisters enough to stick around. TSM.

Dress to the nines. Sparkle like a ten. TSM.

Turning your letter shirt inside out for the walk of shame, because you respect your sorority enough not to shame it, but not enough to keep you from doing the shameful thing. TSM.

Dressing up as “shit show” Barbie for a social. TSM.

Instantly finding him more attractive in his letters. TSM.

Having glitter permanently embedded into your carpet. TSM.

Holding your head a little higher every time you wear letters. TSM.

The “is everyone alive?” group text every Saturday morning. TSM.