The better question is what isn’t a Delco girl? Delco girls have it all. We’re not like the trash from Philly or the stuck up bitches from the Main Line. We are one of a kind, always have been, and always will be.
Our purpose in life is to search for the Delco guy of our dreams all suited up in his Delco tuxedo: baggy sweatpants, timbs, high school sweatshirt, and a fitted hat with a cig hanging out of his mouth. We are defined by where we live, our grade school, parish, and siblings and/or cousins who are also from Delco. Our favorite accessory is any drink from Wawa and our go-to outfit is a Phillies shirt, or whatever team’s shirt is clean. Delco girls spend their summers at the Jersey shore, when not tailgating at a Phillies game or getting shitty in Camden before whatever concerts happen to be there.
Our first glimpse of the life of a Delco girl was shown to us at St. Kevin’s Dances. Those sweaty nights in the basement cafeteria gave us all a good lesson of what is expected of a Delco girl. We have frenemies who are still salty from grade school and high school drama, that we see on a weekly basis, whether we’re at Barnabys, Maggies, or any other local bar. When we see them, we give our perfected fake smile, but inside feel satisfaction because she stole your butterfly clips in 8th grade, but you hooked up with her boyfriend sophomore year of high school. (Delco karma’s a bitch). Most girls from grade school and high school are either in beauty school or pregnant, but hey the earlier we can get started on the next generation of Delco, the better.
You can take the girl out of Delco, but you can’t take the Delco out of the girl.
I HATE MY HOMETOWN THANKS.
People who are proud of this shit are scummy as fuck.