OK Ladies.

Girl gang. Squad. Club. Group message. They’re all synonyms for whatever you call the set of basic bitches that make up your speed dial. Even before TSwift and the ladies that grace her Instagram, girls have depended on girls. We flock to each other. And nothing makes me happier. Call me a girl’s girl or a feminist or whatever.

There’s something so incredible about the loyalty and love that grows in female friendships. Being in college, I’ve seen a lot of shambly things: missing shoes, slices of pizza bigger than my face, girls tumbling off picnic tables. You name it, there’s a good chance it’s on someones’ finsta somewhere. But through it all, there’s always a knight-ess in Urban Outfitters picking up the pieces. And probably another one recording the entire thing to play at your wedding in ten years.

I know it’s only been a week, but this semester has tied me to a lot of really amazing women. From my srat-star sisters to the five salsa loving ladies who let me keep three hummuses and twelve loaves of rye bread in the fridge at a time, I am honestly floored when I think about how College Park has evolved into my home because of these people.

Just to clarify, it’s not like I’ve never been in a lady gang before. I did say to call me a girl’s girl (@ my high school mamas). But due to a little summertime sadness and a lot of adjusting to a new, more #yolo, state of mind, I’ve needed my team to stick by my side and help me pick out a killer outfit. And, I can proudly say I have NOOOOT been disappointed. “Hoes before bros” has never been so legit to me before. 

To the people that support my Kardashian obsession, eat pho with me, and make every moment in between that’s so full of lady love it’s almost disgusting: I. Love. You. All. 


Stuck in my head: New Rules // Dua Lipa
Snap it: Home Sweet CP (with my little Snoop Dogg, Lauren)

 

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