Theta Thursday

Theta Thursday was all about sisterhood, or something like that. My first few years in college, my sorority would not "require" but pretty much force everyone to hang out. We'd have pizza or ice cream and watch Grey's. By the time I was 21, we turned Theta Thursday was more of a time to get together and drink.

I'm bringin Theta Thursday back ladies. Each Thursday I'll feature one of my pledge sisters and a grand story of theirs.

First up, Mallory's recollection of breaking her foot. Titled, "It Sounded Like a Good Idea at the Time." Take it away Mal:


Let’s back the story up a little The whole month of April was a lovely time. I knew I was graduating in May and really nervous about the unknown of the “real world” I was really stressing out about it. I knew in a couple of months I was moving to the Texas Panhandle. I didn’t know anyone there. My family and friends were all going to be in Oklahoma and Houston. So I did what any 22 year would do with a signing bonus, a job secured and two months left in a college town…I partied. Hard.







One night I was out on a date and we indulged in the $ 7 Long Island Ice Tea’s at Malone’s. Why? I don’t know. I know it wasn’t because they tasted good. He lived walking distance from Campus Corner and closing time we hiked it back to his house. When we got back to his place his roommates were out and the living room was clean. He suggested we get comfortable on the couch and put on a movie. Uh oh. Even in my LIT haze I knew what this meant. Walking into an empty, clean, college house at 1 am shared by three boys set off the warning signal in my head. The “let’s get comfortable” line tripped the 5 bell alarm. Looking for an out, I saw lights on and music blaring from the house across the street. The house was being rented by a good friend of mine, Sam, so I suggested we go over and check it out. I really only half suggested – more showed him we were going because I called for him to follow me as I was running out the door. When I got across the street I saw plenty of red cups and cigarette butts lined up on the porch. Sam was having a party. I let myself in and the place was packed. Sam, was a liberal arts major. Very into local music and the local artist scene. The place was packed with shabby chic hippies. I scooted around the house in search of Sam to no avail. I finally reached the back door and stepped outside. The house was built on the top of the hill. The patio was a wooden deck, without siding and steps down the hill to the yard. I spotted Sam across the yard. He was talking to a rather, popular crush worthy journalist at OU. Both of them waved at me. This is where the LITs come into play ( I believe) for some unknown reason I thought it would be cool to skip using the steps and step directly from the top of the deck and land on the hill. This is about 5 ft. Did I jump? No. I just waved my goofy “hi guys” wave and stepped off. From in my head, I was thinking I was going to look oh so cool. From their perspective they saw me take a step off the patio into the air and land in a crunch on the ground 5 ft below me. Once I my first foot hit the ground I felt a snap. The main shot up threw my leg I lost my breath. The weight of the rest of me could not be supported by my leg. I didn’t land on both my feet. I landed on one, it broke and the rest of me folded up like a cheap lawn chair. I heard a “OMG” from the hipsters above me on the deck. I was in serious pain, but I tried to play it off like nothing happened and walked/hobbled over to Sam and the hot guy. First thing Sam says is, “Are you okay?” Me, “What are you talking about?” Sam, “ You busted it big time.” Me (so smooth) “Thought it would be faster than taking the stairs.” The pain and the embarrassment were more than I could handle. I left the party with the help of my bar date. He gave me a piggy-back back to his side of the street. We ended up watching that movie, but I got the whole couch to myself. I had to keep my foot stretched out and on ice. That left no room for two on the couch (denied!)






The next morning my foot was so swollen I could not get my sandal on. I couldn’t even put weight on that foot. He dropped me off at my house and I hopped inside. I did what any other child in pain would do.. I called my grandparents who lived five minutes away. I told my grandmother I fell (finally admitting to what the graceful plunge really was) and I needed to go to the doctor, but couldn’t drive myself. My grandmother said she could take me to the doctor. She asked if I needed anything else. I said, “yes. Taco Bueno.” (I was hungover). Ten minutes later my grandparents were at my door with Advil and Taco Bueno. God, I love them.






I got an X-ray and yes my foot was broken in a hairline fracture. For it to heal I would have to stay off it and wear a medical boot for support. This boot was blue and white and downright ugly. I wore it at your wedding because at that point my foot still hurt so bad. That night I paired it with my black strappy wedge for my right foot. So I had on one heel and one hospital boot. The difference was about two-three inches. The next day my hip hurt really bad from walking/dancing everywhere and not being level.






Moral of the story – Use stairs.




Go Theta. Do it right!