I didn’t stick around UC long enough the first time to have the typical college experience. When I returned in 2014 to finish my degree, I was determined to get it.
I’ve experienced depressing loneliness by spending the first two years letting my resting bitch face scare people away. I’ve often asked myself if I should really be here, and debated transferring to a different university. When I was an English major, I pulled all-nighters writing final papers (one which resulted in a case of food poisoning), and cried weekly while writing response papers about novels and short stories I’ve read. I’ve debated changing my major (again) more than once. Now that I’m a senior? I’m terrified about going back out into the real world, and I’m paranoid that the entire journalism world will implode once I get my degree and I will be forced to go back to office temping.
Pretty typical college experience there.
The one typical college experience I thought I avoided was the Freshman 15. Instead it was the Sophomore 20, which turned into an additional Junior 15.
Between eating at Center Court daily and refusing to exercise, I’ve gained a nice 35 pounds. It’s not that I hate exercise; it’s just boring. I’ve gone to the Rec Center occasionally, which has given me an intense hatred of cardio. That stupid timer on the machine counting slowly down to zero; it’s the longest 20 minutes of my life. And where #BodyPositivity is hash-tagged by college students across the country often on Twitter, I’m the leader of #BodyNegativity — at least when it comes to my body — so you’ll never see me at a group fitness session no matter how many times @UCCampusRec tweets at me to come try it.
My boyfriend has always stressed how the key to losing weight is 80 percent diet and 20 percent exercise. You’d think that ratio would give me hope. Changing my diet would have to be easier than exercising, right? I mean, food is a crucial part of my day. It’s always there. Exercising? I have to make the effort by working it into my schedule; lugging a change of clothes with me to campus; having to change into workout clothes; wandering around the Rec Center waiting for a cardio machine or weights to open up. Ain’t nobody have time for that.
At the beginning of fall semester, I joined Weight Watchers. Again. For the fifth time. I don’t know why I continue to try Weight Watchers. They lure you in with the promise on how you can eat whatever you want and still stay on plan, but then it’s always a shock when you’re at a meeting and they’re stressing how you need to drink what seems like gallons of water a day and really focus on those zero point foods like fruits and vegetables, which will free you up to eat more “power foods” (such as lean proteins and whole grains), which leads to weight loss. Yes, it’s healthy, I know, and I ate that stuff all the time when I was younger, but I want my beer and weight loss, too.
The most I can ever lose is five pounds before I say “screw this” and cancel my membership.
It’s partly because of cost. Before you ask… no, there’s no discount for college students. There’s always some kind of new member special, but if you want to attend meetings plus access to online tools, you’re looking at $44.95 a month (not including the starter fee, which varies depending on what kind of promotion Weight Watchers is running). If you want to do Weight Watchers Online? $19.95 a month. More affordable, but there’s been more times than not where I either don’t have $20 to spare or need to funnel that $20 to something else. Like food.
To most people, this is a personal pizza and can be eaten in one setting.
To Weight Watchers, you must ration this out for days and starve. (Photo/Stephanie Smith)
It’s mostly because of food. Weight Watchers makes eating a chore with its points. Be it breakfast, lunch, or dinner, around every meal, I’m either staring at the computer or staring at my iPhone, entering everything I’ve consumed that day — or days before, if I’ve slacked off. You’d think doing this would be easy considering I’m either always on the computer or staring at my iPhone, but no. It only stirs up anger over how I can’t lose weight; that I really can’t eat whatever I want anymore; or that I blew 15 points of my daily and weekly points allowance on a night’s worth of beer drinking. (Beer is to me what Pringles are to everyone else. I can’t drink just one. More like two to three. PSA: Please drink responsibly.)
Food shouldn’t be a struggle. I shouldn’t feel miserable or guilty because of what I eat. If I want to crush a whole Trader Joe’s Strawberry and Mango Flatbread (complete with a balsamic drizzle, how gourmet), that’s my prerogative and I shouldn’t have to repent for my dietary sins the next day after I find out that that flatbread is 10 points per one-third serving… yet to most “normal” people it’s the size of a personal pizza.
Maybe I’m just destined to be 158 pounds for the rest of my life. (My ideal BMI for my height would put me in the 106 to 134 range.) Maybe that’s what old people do. They gain weight and reach a point where they’re like, “Meh. It’s a pain in the ass to lose it, so I’m just going to keep it.” Never mind the health problems that could result from being overweight. Diabetes would really put a damper on my beer drinking. It’s almost scary-easier to resign myself to pricking my finger daily than having to deal with this punishment of having to lose weight simply because I’m growing older.
