Sorority Rush, Baby! {Northern Virginia, Washington, DC Photographer}

 

At the beginning of our college freshman year, I thought a longtime high school friend and I had pinky swore we weren’t going to do the sorority thing. I remember this making me feel better because I was a) broke, b) insecure, and c) hadn’t yet mastered the critical skill required to properly cuff my pant legs without ridicule.

Apparently we didn’t because it wasn’t long before my friend was doing some kind of crazy signal with her hands and dressing up all the time and, you know what? She totally joined a sorority! Whaaaa? (In my friend’s defense, once my roommate lofted our beds ten inches from the ceiling I became preoccupied with the mechanics of ever sleeping again, so maybe a sorority would have been one thing too many?)

All the same, I was kind of devastated over missing the GO GREEK! train. My friend seemed super happy and there I was, spending my freshman year with a girl who was slowly asphyxiating me with a can of White Rain before Western Civ every morning. Looking back, she had great bangs and, as a result of overspray, so did I. Ultimately a win-win.

That, my friends, pretty much sums up what I know about sororities. Cool clothes, funky hand signals and happiness. I have Riley to thank for suddenly becoming utterly and completely smitten with the idea of sororities 20-some years later. Her Rush session with me last weekend was so awesome I may even start my own sorority for middle-aged mothers who are too tall to cuff their pants within regulation. This could be a thing, right?

Best wishes, Riley! Can’t wait to see all the awesome things you’ll do!blog

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The Yeard {N Virginia, Washington DC, Maryland Photography}

You know how you start doing something and then you kind of get lazy and, whatever, you just keep doing it and then things spiral out of control, but it’s all good, so you go with the flow and it eventually becomes bigger than you thought and then, suddenly, it’s a THING?

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Yes?

I thought so, she said after looking in your closet.

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So, my son kind of did that.

He grew his facial hair for a full year.

It started when he was working construction last summer and didn’t have time to get up and shave every morning. Then he went back to college and, well, it was either shaving or breakfast. Not hard to guess which side won that argument.

Then, it just got bigger.

And more demanding.

It began requiring certain conditioners and combs and professional shaping and the occasional trim to keep the split ends at bay.

And voila! It had become a THING.

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Perfect strangers commented on it.

TSA questioned it (thoroughly.)

People either loved it or hated it and most felt the need to vocalize their opinion early and often.

As his parents, we chose to embrace it. Not only because he’s our son and we love him beard or not yadda yadda yadda, but mostly because he was choosing to do something that wasn’t necessarily popular or well-accepted. He had challenged himself to grow his beard for a year and refused to cave to peer, inferior or superior pressure. If only we could get him to phone home so dedicatedly.

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But then, the year came to an end.

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Decisions had to be made.

Not even his girlfriend had seen him without a beard.

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Which brings us to…

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