Letter From My Future Self

A letter from my future self

Dear me,

Hi, it’s me, you, circa 2023. No, we still don’t have calorie-free food. I know, it sucks, but I didn’t come here to talk about the negatives. I’m writing because you seem to be amid the throes of what you keep referring to as “an existential life crisis.”

Stop it.

I know you’re overwhelmed with your officer position, with choosing your major, with your social life, and with your pursuit of a future husband (or at least your next formal date). Just thinking about your anxiety is giving me anxiety, and you should cool it with the stress, because it’s not cheap undoing your stress wrinkles. Just sit back and listen. I’m here to help. After all, you’re always right, so listen up.

I will not try to argue that recruitment is not the most important thing in your life right now, because it is. You’re under the impression that if you don’t work your ass off practicing songs and bedazzling letters, you won’t score the absolutely perfect, gorgeous, incredible little you hooked me up with. (By the way, she was the only person allowed to even look almost as good as you will at your wedding. Your effing dress, oh my God, it’s — you know, never mind, but it’s fabulous.) I’m here to tell you that your little will be thrilled to discover you’re her big, whether or not you spend all-nighters crafting, scheme to surprise her, and spend what feels like millions of dollars monogramming every single thing you can physically put a monogram on. You’ll still do those things, but don’t stress, because she loves you for you.

You’re super stressed about school, which makes sense, but don’t tell Daddy I told you this: you can totally get away with pulling C’s in your 8AM classes. Save the hardcore studying for grad school, because for the duration of your college years, you’ll never get your shit completely together. Your house, your car, and your hair will never all be clean at the same time, but you’ll have a damn good time goofing off instead of buckling down. For the mere cost of some dry shampoo and a cleaning service, it’s a fair trade-off.

About that asshole you’re hopelessly hooked on. Do NOT waste any more tears on him. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want to date you, and no, you’ll never know why, but it doesn’t matter. I know it hurts, especially when it seems like pledge sister after pledge sister is getting engaged, while you’re still stuck sleeping with, baking for, and MOing this guy who won’t commit, leaving you with the emotional hangover of the century. Trust me when I say, you’ll be so much happier when you’re finally able to move on from this guy, because let me tell you something — your husband is AWESOME. He’s good-looking, treats you like a queen, and if you’re curious about his job, I’ll let the two carats on my left hand speak for themselves. The sooner you get over the jerk who can’t tear himself away from a game of beer pong long enough to thank you for coming to his party, the sooner you’ll find your man. (Sidebar: you’re way hotter than the troll that idiot ends up with. You win!)

And of course, my sweet, beautiful, awesome former self, you have this nagging habit of trying to make everyone else happy, when it simply cannot be done. Look, if you don’t like Lilly Pulitzer, well, then I’m probably talk to the wrong girl, but the point is, don’t spend $300 on a dress to impress someone else. You’ll learn soon enough that the only person you need to please is yourself. So go to that music festival, order that Starbucks drink with the embarrassing name, and give bangs a try (so few people can rock the, but I have this feeling, that you might be someone who can). People will respect you more for being yourself, and more importantly, YOU will respect you more for being yourself. You only get ten years to be in your twenties, so promise me you won’t waste them worrying about what everyone else has to say.

Most of all, I want you to have fun. Don’t get me wrong, at 30 years old, I’m still having a blast, but there are some things I’ll never get to do again. I’ll never stay up all night painting a cooler for a formal I won’t remember. I’ll never attend another frat party. I’ll never throw up on someone I’ve only known for 15 minutes (thank God). But you will, and you’ll remember these times forever. Stay out all night. Fail that test because you decided to take a last-minute road trip with your roommates — just make sure you do the extra credit to swing a C. Party too hard. Wake up next to a stranger. You have plenty of time to worry about being a grown-up when you’re a grown-up. You’ll have the best time brunching with your closest friends — some old and some new — while talking about your terrific jobs and your even more terrific husbands, but some of the best times you’ll have with them will be reliving the old times. You have so much to look forward to, but don’t waste the time you have in the present worrying about what’s going to happen in the future. I’ve got that one. You just have fun, kid. Make me proud.

Your slightly older, slightly wiser, but still just as hot 30-year-old self


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RecruitmentChairTSM (@TheRecruitChair) is a contributing writer for Total Sorority Move. This current grad student and ex-sorority girl survives solely on Diet Coke and the tears of the pledges she personally victimized. She's a Monica, a Marnie, a Miranda, and a Regina. Her favorite hobbies include drinking $14 bottles of wine and binge-watching season 2 of Grey's Anatomy until she cries. You can send her annoying e-mails at

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