Elizabeth Beggan Portfolio

I have two sisters. One twin sister, who, besides stealing my jeans and wearing my shoes, is my best friend. And my older sister, who is 15 years older than me, makes her 34. Growing up I never realized how truly lucky I am to have two sisters. When my older sister Tina got her license, we spent a lot of time going back and forth from the mall shopping for clothes or testing citrus scented perfumes. During these mall trips it was common for the older lady behind the cash register to tell the three of us how lucky we are to have something so special, sisterhood. 

In books and movies sisterhood is clearly defined. Although it can be complicated, like when Amy burns Jo’s rough drafts, and then has a fun snowball fight with her in the backyard, it perfectly encapsulates that sister drama and how quickly we can get over it. It’s interesting to think that something as old as sisterhood is timeless in its ways. The bickering, the fighting over the last cookie, or singing too loud in the shower is what any sister has gone through no matter the time period or age. 

As we grew older, I started to realize that maybe our geeky older sister wasn’t so geeky, it was her 21st birthday party that gave me this epiphany. Before then, Clare and I would be carted to her color guard performances with Tina in the car with bright purple eyeshadow that would glimmer in the light and a long flag that matched. We would sit and watch with the summer birds chirping in harmony and with the night turning those birds into lightning flies that we so desperately wanted to catch. 

I guess it could be seen as out-of-the-blue and random that for my defining moment I chose to write about my sister’s 21st birthday. But for me, and I am sure for a lot of younger sisters, it was nothing short of defining. 

Our house during this time was being completely redone. Blue tapestries filled the floors as if it were a rug and the smell of paint somehow lingered in the air even after everything was done. But those renovations didn’t stop my sister from having her iconic 21st birthday party. 

It’s 2014 and the scene is set. David Guetta made many appearances through the speakers, red solo cups filled with pink whitney, and there were enough cupcakes on the table to feed the whole neighborhood. As a young girl, my mom thought it was a bad idea for my siblings and I to be present while the guests were there so we were stowed away in the bedroom along with the coats while watching Disney. 

Like any curious girl who also loved David Guetta and cupcakes, I planned my escape from the room so that I could see what “older kids,” did for birthday parties. I wanted to know if it was anything like mine. Naively, I was expecting it to be similar to mine at the time. A princess cake with bows and crowns everywhere, and when I turned into the kitchen I was shocked that it wasn’t. Tina had invited both boys AND girls to this party and left the glittery purple eyeshadow behind. 

At ten years old, I had realized that my older sister was cool. She was wearing a black cocktail dress with 4-inch heels that, to me, added a sense of sophistication and style . I was looking around at familiar and unfamiliar faces and when they got close to me, their breath reminded me of my uncles on the Fourth of July. 

For the 20-minutes that I was with everyone and away from the coats, I saw who I wanted to be. My older sister. The one who was no longer the geeky, quirky, and dorky sister blossomed into a 21-year-old who was able to go out without mom or dad and have boys at the house. 

This moment for me shifted how I viewed my sister, and I no longer looked up to the girls on tv or in the magazines. Even now, I look up to her as my biggest role model and a woman I aspire to be like. Now that we’re older Clare and I are able to do things with her that we could have never imagined, like wearing a cocktail dress and 4-inch heels and going to get drinks. No matter how old we get or how far away we are from each other, the bond that I have with both of my sisters remains, and I know that I will always have two dates to a happy hour forever.

DISCLAIMER: I have yet to date one myself, but I’ve come pretty close.

“Loser” boyfriends, the term we’ve all been hearing about and hopefully not experiencing ourselves. The conversation/intervention with your best friend about her “loser” boyfriend is a cannon event for many friend groups all over the world.

To start, we should probably define this “loser” boyfriend for the sake of the article and to avoid sparking any confusion, but rather specify. He is lazy, unmotivated, hopefully has at least a minimum amount of hygiene, is not very thoughtful, spends his time with his other loser friends, and finally, probably can’t imagine his life without his first love, Mary Jane. 

At first, these charming and seemingly obvious uncomplicated men can be attractive. You like how mysterious and unbothered they are and decide to give it a chance. He shows you his cool music and you like his “chill’ vibe. Two weeks pass and you find yourself buying your own flowers because he couldn’t. 

But you are so surprised! He seemed so nice and deep, but in reality, when you take off the rose tinted glasses you spy a loser. The signs were there, and like most relationships, especially in the beginning it is difficult to finally admit to yourself what you didn’t want to before. You are dating a loser. 

The question I keep asking myself is, what is sustaining the attraction?

“I dated a loser because he caught me at a bad time,” says a dear friend who shall remain anonymous. 

“I dated a loser because I was looking for the beauty and found the beast,” Kristina Hagen recalls about her dating life before she met her now husband. 

Is the attraction just his muscles, or is it deeper than that. Some women find themselves giving into this “loser” boyfriend because maybe he makes her feel more confident in herself or has the “fix it Felix” mentality that some of us can’t seem to shake off. 

Olivia Rodgrigo said it best when she said, “I am my fathers daughter so maybe I could fix him.” So even A-list celebrities are going through the same thing. Just look at Madison Beer when she dated Zack Bia! (that was insane)

Being around a loser you can’t help but feel better about yourself when listing anything you have ever done. And sometimes, that feeling overpowers any other. 

All reasons are no fault of yours. As women we are naturally more drawn to men to bring out the nurturing and supportive sides of us. But when it gets to be too far is where we need to take off those rose tinted glasses. 

It’s easier said than done to break it off with him. I know a friend who has tried to break it off with her loser boyfriend a whopping 3 times! So I hope it’s easier for you than it was for her. Putting yourself first is the most important part to remember. Sometimes when you dig yourself into a deep dark hole, you lose sight of the light and sunshine of the hope of finding a man who is not a loser. 

You deserve a charming prince, who buys you flowers and takes you on nice dinner dates. A man who isn’t annoyed when you decide to play your favorite music in the car and sing along terribly. Your friends and family love him and he impresses them with adventurous stories and accomplishments. You need to remember your worth when in a sea with plenty of other fish, pick the carrier of caviar, not the slug. 

Fluorescent lighting is unforgiving in any sense, especially when there are several students leaning against the walls, waiting for their amazon packages. Impatiently. The smell of packing tape and cardboard boxes are familiar, but still disliked, although it goes well with the blank white walls. It’s awkward and for no good reason, hotter than any other room on campus.

Chewing gum, the sound of keys swaying back and forth, and the occasional friend standing with you, giggling as you wait for your name to be called. Without the giggling, it’s easier to hear the quaint buzzing noise that floods students ears. When not calling names and handing packages to half thrilled students, the woman at the front desk can be found outside smoking a cigarette in any weather condition. The small and yet effective mailroom reminds me of how foreigners might picture an American DMV.

When leaving the mailroom with one more thing you needed, or at least one thing you thought you needed, can make an okay day – better. There is a mutual understanding that the level of curiosity dramatically increases once you step foot in the mail room. The second a package is brought up from the uncharted abyss of deliveries from the back, eyes are on you and your delivery. 

Finding out where someone fuels their shopping addiction somehow satisfies that intrusive curiosity we all undoubtedly have. There is a hidden beauty about the mailroom, for a second we get a glimpse into our classmates’ lives that we otherwise wouldn’t get.