Prep Me

 Many full moons ago

when I was a college coed at the University of Vermont…

preppy was “in.” 

The only problem was: 

preppy wasn’t "in" 

my vocabulary.

Maybe there were a few preppy Vermonters 

back in the day, 

but my eyes

had never 

laid eyes on one. 

I didn’t know the slightest thing about dressing preppy. 

When I showed up 

at groovy UVM, 

my wardrobe was 

 short on:

pink and green,

alligator shirts, 

ribbon belts, 

khaki pants,

and Bermuda bags 

but

long on:

bell bottoms,

flannels,

and wide embossed leather belts.

 My freshman roommate

 was the most prepped out human I had ever met. 

She put the P's in preppy.

A triple P threat.

She was also a debutante from NYC 

who had a "coming-out party" 

to announce her debutante status to society.  

I had never heard of a “debutante,”  let alone 

rub leather patch elbows with one.

The closest I would ever come to debutante is…

writing it. 

(Thank you spellchecker.)

Ms. Prep was a formidable leader in the 

UVM Preppy Invasion 

and 

she made it her mission

to make me into her preppy clone...

one Lacoste at a time. 

I must have had a sign 

on my back that said, 

“Prep Me.”

In one effort to prepify me...

she bought me a 

pink Brooks Brothers 

buttoned-down long-sleeve shirt 

with my initials “KAT” monogrammed on the pocket. 

(I must admit...

I was a willing recipient.)

Anywhoooooo......

I was never quite sure what attracted 

Preppy flatlanders 

to go to school in Vermont. 

Was it  

the scenery?

the slopes? 

or

the sea

of bars? 

Or 

maybe it was a secret desire to 

change Vermonsters 

into 

Prepsters

and

one by one…

change the Vermont landscape 

into a field of pink and green...

crawling with 'dem gators.