Every girl to ever step foot on a college campus has heard of the Freshman 15. Those pesky pounds that are known to show up right after becoming familiar with the campus-dining hall are infamous. The extra “cushion” that signifies that you are not a high school girl anymore – you are a college woman. Congratulations!
I know one might think that the most stressful part of beginning college would be classes, making new friends or even overcoming homesickness. And maybe those were the most stressful parts of the college experience for some people, but for me that was not the case.
As far back as I can remember I’ve always had a pretty good self-image. Sure, maybe I wanted my boobs to be bigger and my stomach to be a little flatter, but overall I was content. I ate McDonald’s. I worked out (sometimes). And most importantly I didn’t count calories.
That all changed about halfway through my freshman year. I don’t know if it was societal pressures or just pressure I put on myself, but it was like a switch flipped in my brain. I was at a healthy weight for my height according to BMI, but I was under no delusion that I still would be if those measly fifteen pounds made their way on my body. But honestly who was I kidding? I wasn’t concerned with my health; I was concerned with how I looked. I wanted to be thinner. I wanted to be hotter. And in my mind those two were synonymous.
So I set out to lose 10 pounds at least. I downloaded MyFitnessPal and began keeping track of everything that went in to my mouth. If I ate it, I logged it. I gave myself 1200 calories per day and hit the gym four times a week. I was convinced that surely that would give me the results I so desired.
I was wrong.
Sure I didn’t gain weight (I may have even lost a few pounds), but I wasn’t happy either. When you make yourself go to bed hungry because you have already hit your calorie limit for the day then that’s a problem. I stopped looking at my body as what I looked like and began to look at it as who I was. I knew when the school year ended that it was time for my relationship with obsessively counting calories to also come to an end.
That was three years ago. As a senior preparing to graduate I wish I could reach out to that worried freshman girl I once was and tell her that she’s beautiful. I wish I could tell her that she doesn’t have to lose weight. I wish I could tell her that she shouldn’t beat herself up about that extra slice of pizza. I wish I could tell her that there is so much more to living than trying to be thinner.
I also wish I could say that all my body image issues are behind me, but I can’t. I still look in the mirror and see the things I don’t like before the things I do like. I still do wish my stomach were flatter. If I’m being honest, maybe I always will and maybe that’s okay.
What I can say is that I did gain weight in college. Not the Freshman 15, but some pounds here and there as many college students do. And you know what? It isn’t the end of the world. I now try to focus more on how my body feels instead of how it looks. I try to only say things to my body that I would feel comfortably saying in front of my future daughter. I make the choice to love my body.
So instead of focusing on what I don’t like about my body, I will tell my body that I love it. And I will tell it again and again and again until I believe it.
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