Bid Day was the day my world exploded. I made it.
As I ran into the arms of a bunch of strangers with very nice hair and identical faces, a wave of comfort consumed my entire body. I no longer had to make any decisions for myself anymore. My dreams had finally come true.
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Along with the necessities (three fresh Lilly dresses and 10 sets of fake pearls, duh), I packed an entire set of paints and brushes, as it had always been my dream to become the cooler painting queen that everyone strives to be. Right after I got my bid I began rolling up my sleeves and pre-painting these coolers, as I knew I was going to be a srat-star and would definitely secure an invite to each and every mountain weekend. They are still in my room, decorated with vague alcohol references and really cool brands like Polo and Patagonia, eagerly awaiting the day they can become useful. Are you reading, my future frat daddy?
Besides being a cooler painting queen, I also became the darty queen. For all you "GEEDS" and other irrelevant people who don't know what that means, a darty is a day party. Darty. Get it? It's basically a group of kids standing in and around a house when it's still light out, boppin' to some poppin' tunes. No one knows how to pull off the "flannel, faux leather vest, jeans, boots, Ray Bans and streaks of dry shampoo in hair" look better than I can. What is my secret? You have to color coordinate with the Red Solo Cup that you will inevitably be holding there, that means a lot of red lipstick!
The greatest transformation after joining a sorority, of course, was not from the inside but from the outside. As I first came home for Winter Break, I was asked by my dad if I had been "exploring with Dora," as I was just as tanned as her. After four rounds of whitening strips, my teeth are nearly fluorescent, and my hair is now the shade of semi-hydrated urine. This new look just fits the entire new person I am after maturing into a real sorority woman.
I am the sorority queen. Instead of waving hello at people, I just throw what I know, even if they don't know! If you're still reading this and you still don't know what sorority I'm in, then we are obviously not friends. Because you know. Sorority is life. Sorority is religion. When I meet you I'll ask you what your name is, followed by your panhellenic affiliation. If you don't even know what panhellenic means, well "panHELLO," get with it because we are basically greater than the White House and NASA! I'm pretty sure Obama was in a frat. I would've painted him a great cooler.
After I got my bid, I just turned into a crafty, bow wearing dynamite with lots of friends. So many friends, in fact, I barely know their names. But all that matters is that I like their Instagrams, and they like mine.
Eat, pray, srat!
