I started college with every intention of losing five pounds. Instead, I gained 7.
I'd been figuring that with free access to a beautiful gym and the absence of unlimited amounts of free bagels and muffins and chocolate crossaints, it wouldn't be all that difficult to lose that weight. I even would have settled for remaining the same. But Elise would come with me to the rec, and I couldn't handle the fact that I was completely incapable of keeping up with her - she played soccer for something like 8 years and can run for miles on end without getting the slightest bit out of breath. I was frustrated with being second-best to her, and I didn't like going to the weight room alone - Elise refuses to work out in any manner other than running, and it became easier and easier to blow off working out in favor of drinking too much Bud Light for my own good.
So my goal for second semester has become losing 12 pounds. I realize that it's probably an entirely irrational goal to begin with, regardless of my tendency to opt out of working out. Maybe once a girl is taller than 5'6", she just isn't supposed to be 110 pounds anymore. But 122 is a terrifying number for me, and my determination to reduce that number by at least 6 pounds grows stronger and stronger every day. And that scares me a little.
These days, I can't bring myself to be the confident person that I used to be. From certain angles, I can tell that I am in no way an overweight girl, or a chubby girl, or a girl whose loss of 12 pounds is an absolute necessity. But when I get dressed to go out and look in the mirror, I find myself pinching my hips and my stomach, scowling at my reflection, wondering how it's possible to hate a piece of glass as much as I do at that moment. When people compliment my figure, it's even worse because I become overly aware of the fact that people are scrutinizing my body.
I need to learn how to eat healthy food, because lately it has been all too easy to skip breakfast in favor of a vitamin and a glass of orange juice, throw away half of my lunch, lie to my mom about eating dinner at work. I hate that I'm capable of doing these things when I know better, I hate that I'm nauseated when I see the calorie content on a label, and I hate knowing that I'm on my way to becoming what I thought I was never capable of becomng.
On four separate occasions in high school, I had to cope with friends having eating disorders. All-girls Catholic schools in New Orleans have that effect on a lot of girls, and it's especially common at schools like Sacred Heart - the debutante scene is such a big deal, and the richest, most priveleged girls in the city (or state?) are capable of making some pretty harsh judgements about their classmates.
I never understood how Julia could be the slightest bit dissatisfied with her gorgeous figure, or how Shannon didn't realize that she was so thin that her doctor worried that she would collapse walking up a flight of stairs. I was in shock when Lucy, of all people, was hospitalized for anorexia, and I still shudder when I think about Lizzy's reccurring bouts with bulimia.
I could never fathom how these beautiful girls could look in the mirror and see something entirely different than what I (and everyone else) saw when looking at them.
nicole: 19-year-old LSU sophomore. biochemistry, pre-med. native new orleanian. starbucks barista. borderline alcoholic. addicted to facebook, red bull and vodka, and college football. a little neurotic, extremely indecisive, and often irresponsible.
