Real talk: the freshman 15 is real.
However, I believe the way we, as a society, talk about the freshman 15 needs to change. Currently, it’s framed as taboo, like gaining weight is the end of the world, and adds extra pressure on girls in a time that’s already stressful enough. I know it did for me when I began college. However, after a lifetime, pretty much, of trying to love my body, I’ve finally gotten to a place where I can appreciate it.
Becoming me
I’ve always been bigger than my peers, weight and height-wise. Since seventh grade, I’ve been five feet, nine inches — taller than a lot of my teachers too. In elementary school, I was a chubby kid, with a bit of a stomach and big thighs. While my classmates shopped at Justice in elementary school or Hollister in middle and high school, I found myself at J.C. Penney for plus-size kids’ clothes, and later Kohl’s, because they always had my size. Watching Disney Channel as a kid, there was nobody with my body type, and if there was, other characters made fun of them for being fat. As I got older, my friends shared clothes, but I could never swap jeans or borrow a bathing suit. Even when I lost some of the baby fat in eighth grade, there were still days where I wished I could have a different body.
I was at my skinniest freshman year of high school when I played softball — three hours of rigorous practice a day plus extra workouts on the weekend will do that. Once I stopped playing sophomore year and didn’t change my eating habits, I started gaining weight. I won’t lie, it sucked. Big time. I had to buy new clothes, and going shopping was never fun. I always felt like crying in the dressing room when pants that were supposed to fit wouldn’t even zip. I got through it though, and I got through the rest of high school at a relatively stable weight.
Then, I started my first semester of college.
Fighting the “freshman 15”
I decided to pay for the meal plan, which I appreciated for its convenience, but I wasn’t eating the healthiest. Trust me, if you had pizza, pasta and dessert available whenever you wanted it, you wouldn’t either. Since I have a crazy sweet tooth, the prospect of dessert whenever I wanted excited me very much, no matter the consequences. My friends and I would go out to dinner or for ice cream often, which also wasn’t super healthy. Between managing my busy schedule and learning how to navigate a new environment, I didn’t exercise as much as I wanted to. The gym slightly intimidated me, and I didn’t have time — or so I told myself — to find an outside jogging route that I liked as much as my one at home. I started noticing that my t-shirts were tighter around my arms and my pants squeezed my thighs, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to think about my weight gain.
Over Christmas break, I went home and found all the clothes that I didn’t bring to college, mostly shorts I didn’t regularly wear. Most were sizes 10 or 12. I knew the size 10s were a lost cause, but one day, when I was planning to hang out with a friend, I chose one of the size 12s. They were a dark denim wash from Old Navy that I’d lived in the summer between junior and senior year of high school, and they’d always fit perfectly. I wiggled into them, trying not to notice the way my thighs bulged under the too-tight fabric or that I had to coax the zipper up. I got into them, but once I moved, I couldn’t deny it. They didn’t fit.
I changed into jeans, and those were also tight, but not unbearably so. I put the shorts back into my closet, telling myself that they would fit one day. Eventually.
As New Year’s came around, I started thinking about resolutions. I’d never been one for them, but it felt right. I was unhappy with my weight. I was unhappy that my clothes didn’t fit. I was unhappy with how I felt. I resolved to run every morning before class in the spring semester and created a list of all the ways I could eat healthy while still on the meal plan. I imagined myself 15, maybe 20 pounds lighter, and able to slip into size 10 shorts with ease.
Finding a new perspective
When spring semester came, I stayed true to my plan. Every morning, I woke up at 7:15 and went for a two-mile run by Lake Alice. I stopped getting cookies after every meal, watched my sugar intake and chose healthier options in the dining hall. This is working, I thought to myself. I don’t believe in weighing myself, so I didn’t, but I couldn’t wait for the day when my pants loosened. It never came, but something else did.
I’ve always struggled with anxiety, but a more regular exercise regimen combined with meditation and clean eating reduced it. I felt more motivated to get out of bed, had more energy throughout the day and fell asleep faster at night.
In the middle of the semester, I mixed it up and began attending the 7:15 a.m. cycling class at Student Rec. The first time, my best friend went with me, but after she deemed it to be too early (which I understood). I went alone the next time. A lot of the girls who do the class are extremely skinny, but I didn’t let being the biggest girl in the room deter me. After that, I started feeling more confident about my body, and in March, my breakthrough came.
One day, I decided to sleep in, but I still wanted to run. I went to the gym and used the treadmill; with my music and pent-up exam stress, I ran three miles in 35 minutes. I hadn’t realized I was going that fast, but after I did it, I couldn’t stop smiling. The next day, I went on the treadmill again to make sure it wasn’t a fluke – and it wasn’t. At the beginning of the semester, I never could have gone to a cycling class alone or run three miles. With that progress, who cared if I lost weight or not? Not me.
Making progress
Before spring break, I watched Marie Kondo’s series on Netflix, “Tidying Up“ (I know, I’m way behind). Watching every person featured on the show tear their clothes from their closets and throw them away inspired me. Back at home, I stared down all the shirts I hadn’t worn since freshman year, all the pants I’d saved to make a point and then threw them onto my bed. I was brutal. Anything that I didn’t like or that didn’t fit went. My mom looked a little concerned when I hauled all the things to donate from my room, but I was confident. They had to go.
After this, I went on a shopping trip. Going to the plus-size section at Forever 21 was difficult at first, especially when I was with my friends who are smaller sizes, but I did it. I bought three pairs of jeans, all size 14, and let me say, not having to do acrobatics to get into my jeans is freeing. Shopping wasn’t without its usual challenges. Rifling through racks of clothes and not being able to find your size sucks, but I’m learning not to take it personally. At some point, you have to acknowledge your size and your body.
My biggest takeaway is learning to appreciate what my body can do rather than its appearance. Some days, it’s difficult, but I try to be grateful that I can walk, I can run, I can do all these incredible things that not everyone lucky enough to do. Finding sources of body positivity is beyond important. One of my favorite artists is Lizzo, whose music is invariably fun and body positive, and I follow models like Ashley Graham and Tabria Majors on Instagram. Julie Murphy’s Dumplin’ also made me feel great. My next goal is to be able to weigh myself. It’s not so much about knowing my weight but knowing that I have the strength to step on the scale and not cry at the number. I don’t trust myself to do that now, but I know I’ll get there.
All in all, it is really, truly okay if you gain weight in college. It happens. You’re going through a lot and learning to navigate a new life. It makes me sad to see girls struggling with body image, but journeys to self-love are intensely personal. If you’re still struggling, know that the breakthrough will come one day, and you’ll be better for it.