I came to college, like many before me, with bursting excitement, curiosity and a little bit of fear.
The source of fear: the freshman 15. I never worried about what I ate, beyond avoiding fried foods, or cared if I put on a few extra pounds during the holidays. But suddenly it seemed those 15 pounds were finally the cause Belli we needed to wage the Slim-fast jihad. It seemed too easy – there was a Raising Cane’s just around the corner, midnight pancakes with the chancellor and a vending machine just down the hall for all late-night cravings. I could list the temptations for days. With all these choices, I had no chance. But it’s not that simple. There’s a fast food joint near my house when I lived with mom and dad and a pantry stocked and open anytime I felt like perusing it. A change in location shouldn’t mean instant weight gain unless you’re moving to Waterbury, Vermont. That also isn’t an invitation to bring on the Ben and Jerry’s. I still needed to keep working out on a regular basis. I knew I would be the next victim of the freshman 15 when I noticed my jeans were getting tight and an unfamiliar number appeared on the scale when I climbed on. I almost admitted defeat and just went with it – I could get a bigger bust and fill out a tasteful bikini top. Then I remembered how the rest of me would look in a bikini and dusted off my running shoes. It’s not all about looks though. It’s more important to be healthy and happy with your figure. If you don’t believe me, watch any given episode of the “Tyra Banks Show” and see how often she brings this point up. It seems a society where people are obsessed with stick-thin models is finally being replaced by the reactionary “as I am” era. Just in time, I might say. When I start trying on bathing suits in the next couple months, I’ll keep that as my mantra as I greet the cellulite that’s been hiding under my jeans.
—-Contact Emily McArdle at [email protected]