Friday Confessional: I Popped My WHAT?!

Ok, let's cut to the chase. It's Friday. On Fridays, we wear pink confess our deepest, darkest, most embarrassing thoughts, obsessions and musings. 

So, without further ado, I do hereby solemnly confess:

I Popped My ____ in College

The Secret Word is: Collar

Get your minds out of the gutter, you pervs.

I suppose I should clarify that statement -- I popped my collar in college, and I did *NOT* graduate in 1985.

You see, as I've mentioned before, I was in a sorority. And everyone knows that sorority girls are supposed to pop their collars. And wear pearls. And tie white ribbons into enormous bows on their ponytails. 

The Half-Pop

I didn't know better. I'd seen Grease too many times (82, to be exact. Yes, I know that that is sick. The 18-hour marathon viewing with my best friend, Jenny, when I was eight was a huge contributor to this total). I worshiped at the alter of Lilly and Abercrombie Aeropostale, and I had read the old, dog-eared copy of The Preppy Handbook I'd found snooping around my Gramma's house so many times that the binding was cracked. I mean, in a sea of Tiffany's, no one cares that your pearls are from Claire's -- if you've got your collar popped. Why does it MATTER if you look stupid... you're one of the gang!

WORD.

I wish I could say I regretted it, but I really don't. Poppin' the ol' collar (and the resulting incriminating photos) is one of those collegiate rights of passage that comes with living in New England. I'm sure four years from now, I will shudder at the thought of skinny jeans tucked into knockoff Payless Uggs (err... not that I'm wearing that RIGHT NOW or anything). But my polos (and my pearls!) were fashionable 50 years ago and still will be 50 years from now. In fact, I wish I had a polo on today -- I'd pop that sucker and strut my stuff down the hallway, which would be far less embarrassing than being caught muttering the lyrics to "S&M" to myself earlier.

I like it, like it... come on!

Vegetarian Adventure Update:
A is none too pleased with the direction of my Vegetarian Experiment. He mentioned a "lack of lean protein sources" and how we have to be careful because vegetarian proteins are calorie-dense. When I pointed out that my bowl of poo oatmeal in the morning has 18.5g protein, 8g of good fat and 355 calories, he responded by saying, "I guess I only like beans and nuts." 

I, on the other hand, am lovin' it -- 2.5 days down and nary a craving. I even watched him make himself two burgers last night and, shockingly, did not have the desire to trap my tongue between the plates of the Foreman, Michael Scott-style. Which is good, considering we're fresh out of bubble wrap. I settled in with my black bean burger, sweet potato fries and the BEST roasted asparagus I've ever made and all was right in the world.

So, tell me: Do you have any ill-fated fashion misfortunes to confess? Do/Did you rock the popped collar? Please tell me I'm not the only one who has been caught singing WILDLY inappropriate lyrics in the workplace... anyone? ANYONE?!