I dismissed it as a myth, an urban legend of sorts, or some
hyperbole that a girl created to justify her growing pant size. My
parents bought it, though, literally. As I neatly packed my things
away for school they approached me with one final, loving gift: a
scale. I was appalled! This was no ordinary scale; it calculated
body fat and daily calorie intake, leaving me to believe my parents
didn’t trust me to take care of my body that survived 15 years of
athletic competition. Then, as I shoved the scale in a dark corner
of my dorm room and found myself, once again, standing in the line
for soft serve at Gries cafeteria, I confronted the horrible truth-
that the Freshman 15 is undeniably real.

So how exactly does one gain the dreaded Freshmen 15? It’s
definitely not the home-style cookin’ down in Gries that keeps me
coming back for more. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’m trying to get
the most for my money every time I swipe. In my vain search for a
satisfying meal, I often pile my plate, or plates, with anything
that looks remotely appetizing in an attempt to find something
worthwhile, and in the course of doing so probably consume far more
than I should. Some of my friends go further by continually falling
back on the traditional pizza and french fries as a routine meal,
which has never gone over well with the waistline.

Even in my desperate endeavor to eat a healthy meal, I often
fall short somewhere inbetween the salty vegetables, saturated
rice, fat-caked-meat-of-the-day and cocktail-onioned peas. Although
there is always salad, it seems that in order to do the “lettuce”
any sort of justice you have to drown it in dressing. While the
staff has posted the nutrition facts on the safety glass, those
alone would be enough to deter any health nut, based solely on
sodium and fat content.

Ironically, this frustration leads to dessert. After a less than
satisfactory meal, I like to give the dessert bar a chance to
vindicate it all, even if it’s just stale Rice Krispies transformed
into gooey Rice Crispy treats. It seems as though the desserts are
consistently good, as compared to the rest of the food, leaving
sweets as the only reliable food group. As if that wasn’t bad
enough, some freshman girl, no doubt, spread a rumor that the
soft-serve is fat-free; therefore walking away with a cake cone
isn’t given a second thought.

Putting the ice cream, pizza and fries aside, partying sure
helps pack on the pounds. A good five pounds of the Freshman 15 are
most likely attributed to alcohol consumption. Not only do freshmen
go out more often than in high school, but tolerance skyrockets,
along with caloric intake. In the world of case races, beer pong
and power hours, it’s hard to imagine how much one consumes in a
given night, especially some of the males who are seemingly
bottomless pits. This leads to the phenomenon of the 15: Guys
survive unscathed by it all. The tall, skinny boys remain tall and
skinny; as if whatever quantities of alcohol or ice cream pass
though them with the same effect as water. And the real kicker is
that most guys I know have lost weight, if anything.

It seems as though the guys will remain as-is and I will
religiously visit the Simon Recreation Center in an attempt to
avoid this horrendous plague. My last hope lies in the upcoming
years, where I can have my own apartment equipped with a full
kitchen and finally revert to well-balanced, nutritious meals. But
let’s get real: An apartment means your own refrigerator, which
inevitably means more alcoholic beverages and more ice cream boxes,
and before you know it, the Freshman 15 just became the College
60.