My Perfect Big

The best week ummm EVER began on Dad’s weekend; a weekend set aside by the sororities for Daddy to come visit and spoil their little princesses more than usual with shopping trips, breakfast, lunch, and dinner dates, and countless reminders of your prominent beauty. I LOVE Dad’s weekend and the genius betch who created it; I salute you. Anyway, while at a sorority function I was given a box full of sorostitude goodies; lettered yogas (TSM), Lilly picture frames, bumper stickers, pens, notepads and everything else necessary to deck out my room with all things sorority. In retrospect, these gifts were probably given in front of everyone’s Daddy so he’d understand the importance of spoiling your Little, love it all as much as we did, and be willing to fund the ridiculous amount of purchases we’d need to make the following year. Either way, this was the beginning of Big/Little week.

Big/Little week creates the most perfectly outrageous combination of excitement, anxiety, and pure sisterly love. For me, it was love at first sight, one of those “when I see something I like, I gotta have it, I love it” situations that I thought were only reserved for love stories like the notebook. I thought that it was coincidence that we sat next to each other at every function ever and that our dates to a date dash were Big and Little. I swore I saw fireworks on that fateful night as we stumbled down Greek row together on the arms of our fratdaddies. Perhaps that was the 5th shot of tequila. I could only hope that you loved me the way I loved you, but little did I know you made it all happen. You facebook stalked me more than I did you, and dirtie littled me, and I couldn’t be happier that you did. And not just because of the froyo dates, amazing gifts, letters, magazines, bedazzled wine glasses and ENDLESS bags of skittles (which I loved, but I reluctantly passed on to my GDI roommate. It was the week before spring break. You totally understand).

Biggles, we were made for each other, and I’ve never looked up to someone more than I look up to you. I’m so lucky to be yours. And after such a short time together, I already can’t imagine my life before it had you in it. I need you. Like legit honestly and desperately need you. You have been through it all, and always know what to say to stop the tears and start the laughter. Navigating life in a sorority with 200 girls can get tricky and every house has its issues. My heart’s been broken by boys, and that fat as shit bitch in *** totally stole my spot on our favorite fraternity’s trip to Cancun. And who did I call? My big. Problems with my pledge sisters? Vent to my big. Questions about some handsome Sperry-wearing, BB-donning, (unfortunately) copenhagen-dipping vision of fraternal beauty? Not only does Biggie know who he is, but she’s got dirt on his ex-girlfriend and has his Big on speed dial. Any and all advice I could possibly ever need can be directed toward my perfect, all-knowing, and extra totally fabulous BIG. And not that I could ever fully express to you my gratitude, but thank you. Thanks for cheering me on during my blackouts, and hiding me from standards later. Thanks for the advice, the Starbucks dates, and for always being there and continuing to be. I love you more than words, you’re the best role model I could have ever asked for and I can only hope that when I take a little of my own, I can be as absolutely incredible to her as you are to me.

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