We have four years in college. Well, most of us at least. Only four short years to attain the thing that is most essential in securing our futures.
That’s right ladies, four years to find a husband. Every true woman knows how vital it is to find the right brilliant babe to father their children and replenish their bank accounts. A Southern belle is nothing but a pretty face and pearls without a man to eat her cooking and appreciate her cleaning.
So ladies, the clock is ticking and the hunnies are being taken at an alarmingly fast pace. Our expiration dates are fast approaching. To help you find that special someone, I’ve laid out step-by-step directions for how to secure your husband and consequentially, your future.
Tumblr, please confirm this is satire?!
This has to be satire, but I also know several women like this. It’s a huge thing in the south for women to go to college just to find a husband.
This is totally from UGA’s newspaper, The Red and Black. Between that and the Greek scrawl on her boobies, it’s safe to say that this isn’t satire..? It’s so hard to say because Southerners really don’t use literary devices or irony, and things that seem tongue-in-cheek or remain unspoken are often quite sincere.
Fun fact: The cheerleading captain who bullied me in high school had the last name of Estes.
One day, I defaced anything and everything with her name on it by adding a ‘T.’ This included the football programs in the gymnasium to the roster painted on the side of the bleachers. It was glorious.
Pretty sure she now has six kids and lives in the buttcrack of Chattanooga.
Totally just forgot about this until now. Thanks, Newsweek!
I attended high school with A LOT of women who had this very mindset when making their college choices. For them, like their mothers before, the goal of college was not education. Education was in the back seat with its mouth taped shut. You went to college to join a sorority, network with all the legacies, and hopefully land yourself a husband from a respectable frat. You graduate in your pre-portioned 4 year time line, move into a small apartment with your fiance for a year or so until he lands a nepotistically convenient job, have a Barbie dream wedding, pop out a couple of hitler youth, buy an over-sized house on a postage stamp of grass and matching SUV in the burbs, and spend your afternoons at “Drink and Draw” classes guzzling chardonnay while everyone showers you with phrases like, “you’re so talented” and “you really should have gone to art school” while admiring the slap dash squiggles in the shape of a flower vase as the best thing since Van Gogh lost an ear. It’s one of the main reasons why I have absolutely no interest in attending my 10 year high school reunion.
Edit: this is probably fake, as pointed out by hollywoodkote
Nevertheless, there are plenty of folks out there who call that flavor of small-minded success home. Especially down here.
Also known as “getting your MRS degree”