The Game Day Princesses & Other Mythical Creatures

I had seen them before. With their perfectly coiffed hair, flawless makeup, fluttery game-day dresses and sparkly little shoes, the mystery of the game-day princess never ceased to stop me in my tracks the times I'd run across one at Tech. Even though the law school's tailgate was in an entirely separate parking lot, occasionally we'd venture into Raider Gate, and there you could witness these little dolls dressed up in their pearls and teased hair prancing around with their sparkly koozie and can of Michelob Ultra.

Why the hell would you wear that to a football game? was always my first thought upon seeing one. Why the hell are those guys actually taking her seriously, would be my next as I would watch the college boys just about fall over themselves to talk to these dolls. Guess it's the same reason they're wearing those stupid florescent colored shades and fratty short-shorts, would be my last thought as I went on about my way, always feeling a bit of relief that I hadn't gone to a D-1 school. My college football experience was entirely different than that of students from those bigger schools, hell my whole college experience was entirely different I guess, and I have always felt pretty thankful for that.

At my undergrad we wore jeans and t-shirts to games, and denim skirts and jeans to the bar. "Dolling up" was reserved for big events like weddings and such. We just didn't worry about stuff like that and most of the time my crowd was sitting around a fire somewhere goofing around or playing horse shoes in the yard. There was no place for pearls or high heels.

Lubbock was a brief look for me into the ridiculous levels undergrads can go when it came to dressing up (I'd love to elaborate even more on what those sorority girls wore out to the bars and how fun it would be to watch them slowly turn into drunk hot-messes with mascara running down their faces, but that would take a whole other post) - and I didn't really think much about needing to play into it myself. Law school had its own circles in Lubbock and the undergrads were more or less a source of entertainment for us when we needed a good laugh.

So when we arrived in College Station Saturday morning for the biggest game of the year, I had somewhat prepared myself to see these mystical creatures once more. Actually, not gonna lie, I was a little bit excited. There is just something fun about seeing those girls. It's like when you see zebras randomly in a pasture while driving down the road. You just have to smile and wonder. I would almost love to just be a fly on the wall while they get ready, and hear the reasoning behind "oh I think this dress and these necklaces would be perfect for the football game" - because my mind just can't understand it.
But after having only unloaded the beer and put on our sunscreen and already dripping with sweat, I didn't really think they'd be able to survive. It was 11 AM and already the sun was beating down on us and it felt as if you were steaming in a sauna from the humidity. No way could a Game Day Princess survive in this. But alas, I was proven wrong.

No sooner had we made it to the tailgate to meet up with some of B's old friends that I spotted one. There she was, her long hair flowing down her back, perfectly curled, a skinny little headband cutely wrapped around her forehead, and just standing there, casually sipping on her margarita as her sheer little ivory dress rippled in the breeze that apparently was blowing for her and her alone. I couldn't help but stare and become awkwardly aware of the sweat that I could already feel forming on my back and forehead, causing the desperate attempt I had made to curl my hair pointless as it began to stick and cling to my sweaty face and neck. Thank God for my shades because I knew my eyeliner didn't stand a chance. B looked down at me and laughed as I wiped my face. Crap. I couldn't even make it an hour before I was melting into a disaster, in my t-shirt and flip-flops, and all the while that princess was surviving, hell, thriving, in this heat - all while wearing something that belonged at a bar not a tailgate. My mind was officially boggled.

I had just decided she was a phenomenon, a fluke, and blessed with good genes when another princess walked up and they casually chatted and compared bracelets and sparkly shoes. All while sipping their drinks, calm and cool as could be. My God. Who are these girls. Thankfully B was apparently used to seeing this and as we walked from tailgate to tailgate, we joked about the random outfits and get-ups these gals were in. We saw it all, from tight-fitting lacy dresses paired with boots to fluttery white little numbers that threatened to flutter up just a little too high at any moment. All perfectly in place and with no sweat stains in sight. Unbelievable and amazing all at the same time.

After sweating it out through the game and walking out of the stadium, I almost hoped to catch a glimpse of those same girls from earlier. Would they still look as great, still as perfect, or possibly would they have worn down a bit. Sadly, I'll never know. I couldn't find that headbanded girl again or her perfect friend, but I did see something that gave me hope. She looked like a little wounded butterfly, sitting there on the edge of a cooler, with two mismatched socks resting in the grass as her cute pair of boots sat crumpled next to her. She also looked a little drunk, her eye make-up smeared just a bit and her hair flat from the heat and an obvious stain of something, likely beer, down the front of a cream colored little dress. She just sat there, halfway watching the game of washers in front of her and seemingly halfway trying to hold herself up.

Maybe, just maybe, she had been one of those perfect little game-day princesses at one point today. All dolled up and ready for the game 8 hours ago. Maybe she pranced around in her boots and dress, drinking something flirty and giggling through a game of beer pong.

And maybe, just maybe, they really are like the rest of us too.