schweblog

The weather’s getting warmer. The grass is getting greener on both sides of the fence. And, on every campus across the nation, the square inches of exposed feminine flesh is increasing exponentially. While it’s always lovely to see the extra bits of cleavage, leg, or belly, the new fashion trends with the new season have their cons, too. And I’m not talking about the spandex on people that don’t qualify for it.

Today I attended Spring Storm: a community service event coordinated by the student senate where particular groups from the university can sign up and they will be assigned a good deed to do for the day. All in all, it’s a pretty noble, worthwhile cause–school grounds get cleaned up, old people get the old refrigerators loaded out of their backyards, and the world is made a better place. More notably, an estimated 80% of the participants are Greek.

I’ve nothing against Greeks, really. It all seems kind of silly and pretentious to me, but I’m not privy to all the details and can’t really pass an accurate judgment. As I sat atop of the bleachers waiting for the rest of my group (the ACLU), I watched the people shuffle in. Most of the females were in sororities (as was evident by the Greek letters on their tees or the tatoos on their back/shoulder) and most of the them were clearly viewing this as a social event, not a community service event.

As a result, we had a very large percentage of the dolls dressed in very impractical clothing for outdoor community service: Daisy Duke shorts, low-cut something or others resembling sports bras, and (oy) sandals. Granted, most of these gals probably spend more time in the gym than they did in class and the view was certainly enjoyable and there’s no reason to not show it off, but there’s a time and place for everything. In spite of all the exposed midriffs, it kind of depressed me.

Here are the future leaders of America–the erudities, the scholars, the over-achievers–and most of them have let their desire to be looked at overshadow their better judgment. I sat and reflected on this for a time, spoke about it with the leader of our group (a wonderful gal with an interest in females that rivals my own), and. . .

…quickly forgot about it as the cute Asian gal sat down near us. It was spring. The sun was shining. The skin was showing. And we were happy.