Stop worrying about weight: Let college expand your mind and your waistline

The Freshman 15 was child’s play. From then on, I would have preferred stepping into a snake… The Freshman 15 was child’s play. From then on, I would have preferred stepping into a snake pit than onto a scale. “Weight is just a number,” people would say. “It’s about how you feel.”

Actually, that’s a cruel joke. I would tell myself the new sizes I was wearing were arbitrary, that they didn’t mean anything. As it turned out, they did. It’s not like I got tranquilized when I went to the zoo, but the situation wasn’t good. It seemed hopeless. Classical beauty, my ass.

The bottom line is the college lifestyle made me fat. It was entirely my fault. I chose to stop paying attention and to have a good time, to enjoy all the new freedom I had found. Apparently I had a really, really good time. Then I got on the scale.

I kicked, I screamed, I cried. With arms outstretched I slurred into the heavens, “Why, oh why have I become so rotund? Was I a corpulent person underneath it all? Am I doomed to spend eternity pleasingly plump?”

That was a few months ago. I’ve taken most of the weight off now, because of a regimen of diet, exercise and stubbornness.

I gained more weight over the course of college than I care to consider, now that I’ve watched every single pound spin past on the scale. It was easy to put it on, effortless even. But the process of losing it was awful. It was genuinely miserable to decide to change for the better.

I do not regret putting on all that weight. In fact, I’m proud of it. I had to have a really good time in order to gain such a stunning and unprecedented amount of weight. I had fun doing it; believe me.

I propose that people wear their fat proudly. If you’ve put weight on in college, the reason is most likely all the good times you’ve had. The college experience manifests itself on your hips and belly. Antoon’s Pizza was a great idea on all those Friday nights when we stopped along the street and consumed frantically through blurry vision, not thinking about the consequences. Shoveling Easy Mac into my face between classes when I used up all my meal blocks was a good idea, too.

All the coffee at the diners, the pitchers of whatever beer was on special, late-night trips to Eat ‘n Park for ice cream and french fries, they were fantastic. I made many friends, had a few crushes and infuriated a few waitresses.

In fact, my weight gain correlates directly with hedonism and irresponsibility. These are two of the sports I play best.

As much as it pained me to start from the beginning, I couldn’t take the situation as a total loss. I am certain that I have enjoyed my years at college to their fullest extent. Whether or not it spilled over my jeans from time to time will be a fond memory. Yes, I got fat in college. I’m proud to say it.

So guys, show that belly. Be proud. You had to drink a lot of beer to get it. Ladies, squeeze into whatever sweatpants you love the best and show off your jiggle. Maybe it’s the vodka you drank on that wild night on Chesterfield. For me, it was red wine with my best friends and falling in love once or twice over cheese fries. I can’t think of a better reason to gain weight.

Being heavy had its advantages. If you fall from a great height, for example, you’re more likely to bounce than shatter. You’re less likely to drown, because you’re buoyant. You are also quite effective on a sled.

There is undeniable power in relying on the mental and ignoring the physical. I would never want to be the person I used to be before I gained weight. It gave me a new perspective; I occupied space differently in at least two senses.

Being heavy also gives you a better representation of why those who love you choose to do so. Regardless of how bad I thought I looked, it was a good thing to be secure that my relationships were not superficial.

It was liberating to do exactly what I wanted to at any time for any (or no) reason. I told myself it was time for change, compelled to do so not because I even care but because I am compelled to make myself care. As the thin person emerged out of the shell I had been wearing, I wondered if I even wanted to change back.

E-mail Rachel Chunko at rpc973@pitt.edu.