A few days ago, I drove through my alma mater's campus and was flooded with memories. College truly was the best four years of my life. It is such a strange time in your life because although you're technically an adult, you're not quite in the adult world. I thought of a few things that I would advise this year's high school grads when it comes to university life.
1. Study abroad. Whether it's for a year, a semester, or a summer, definitely go abroad. There are wonderful programs for students and it's truly the adventure of a lifetime. Once you get settled in your career and family, it's more difficult to take time (and money) and go overseas. From my experience, museums/trains/hostels, etc had a reduced rate for students under 25. Go while you can!
2. Live in the dorms (for at least a year). Most dorms have come a long way from communal bathrooms and mold on the walls. There's a certain luxury of waking up five minutes before class and walking to the building next door for 9:00 am English class. It definitely beats driving around and around a parking lot trying to find a spot.
3. Open your door. While living in the dorm, I would sit on my bean bag chair and watch sitcoms with my door open. I met many cool people who would catch me watching Golden Girls and come in to trade Blanche Devereux quotes.
4. Take a class for the hell of it. You have to have your gen ed classes and you have to have your major/minor classes but squeeze in a class that sounds like fun to you. When else are you going to be able to take bellydancing or dinosaurs?
5. Take advantage of on campus services. Feeling blue? Most counseling services on campus are confidential and free. Feeling that freshman 15? Get your butt to that new state of the art gym that would cost $50 a month to someone off the streets. Undecided about a major? Career services can help you find something that matches your interests. There are so many great resources that are available that many don't take advantage of.
6. Go through rush. Even if you aren't into the whole Greek thing, participate in rush week and see what it's about. You could find your best friend forever or at the very least, have a great story to tell at happy hour.
7. Attend a sporting event/play/concert on campus. Student tickets are often way cheap. Broaden your horizons and try new things!
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Thursday, May 8, 2014
A weighty issue
I've never been what you would call "skinny." I was a beautiful fat baby, complete with fat rolls on my arms and legs. As a child, I was healthy looking. Not skin and bones, but no fat rolls either. Average, maybe? At the time, my teenage years felt rough. I felt fat, ugly, and awkward. Of course when I look back today at pictures of me during that time, I am envious of my thin, curvy shape and would give anything to look that way again. It's hard enough being a teenage girl, but when you have a younger brother who delights in your pain and misery, it's twice as hard.
At 16 years old, I was probably a size 14. Not horrible, but I could have stood to have lost a few pounds. My teenage self, however, thought that this was horrible. One weekend, I got a stomach bug and lost my appetite. After a few days of not eating, I thought that I could handle going without food. This began my Mountain Dew addiction--I drank Mountain Dew and Surge (now I'm showing my age) so that I had enough energy to make it through a day of high school, homework, and my part time fast-food job. I would lie to my mom and tell her that I would get dinner work on my break, and I would tell my coworkers that I had ate supper at home before I came in. No one thought to question me. I ended up losing about 30 pounds in a month and ended up being a size 10. I felt glorious. I reveled in the attention I was getting. Only after my boyfriend at the time drew a line in the sand did I start eating again. Somehow I managed to maintain the weight loss through my college years.
In college, I slowly started gaining weight. I attribute my weight gain to starting birth control pills rather than the stereotypical "freshman 15." I didn't put the weight on overnight--instead it was more of a slow creep. By the time I started my first year of law school, I was 205 lbs. 205 scared me. Men are supposed to weigh over 200 pounds, not women. I signed up for Weight Watchers and began attending meetings. I actually did really well with the program and lost about 20 pounds in 2 months. I was so freaking proud of myself. Of course, my pride dwindled and my weekly losses became miniscule. I stopped going to meetings and began eating whatever I wanted. Law school sucked. It was stressful, it was hard, and I hated every minute. I began to use food as a treat. "Yay, I made it through finals, I deserve to go to Chipotle!" "Today sucked. I want to go to Sonic and get a milkshake to make myself feel better." The weight I lost came back and invited some of its friends.
The year after law school, I was asked to be maid of honor in a friend's wedding. This friend was a girl that I went to high school with and looked up to. She was in the popular crowd and I was not. Actually, we barely spoke to each other back then. While I was in law school, she found me on Myspace and we realized that we had tons in common and became good friends. I was so thrilled and honored to be asked to be in her wedding; especially as maid of honor. I figured that her wedding would be like a mini class reunion of sorts and I was determined not to be the fat bridesmaid. The wedding was scheduled for early August. On January 1st, I was a size 18. I told my friend to order my dress in a 14 so that I would be forced to lose weight. Equipped with a membership to the local gym and a folder of Weight Watchers material from a few year back, I began the process of fitting into that dress. By God, I did. I lost 50 freaking pounds. I felt pretty. I felt attractive. I felt sexy. People I hadn't seen in awhile told me how great I looked. Others would ask me what my secret was. I felt empowered and loved the attention. I loved clothes shopping for the first time in years.
I started working in my chosen career--law and was constantly on the go. Lunch with coworkers, long dockets, jail visits, and commuting brought back bad habits and those 50 pounds seemed to quickly jump back on me. I gained back all that hard-lost weight and then added another, gulp, 50 pounds to it. I now weigh 100 pounds more than I did back in 2007. I feel gross. I feel undesirable. I can't see my toes. I have stretch marks on my upper arms and I feel like I no longer have a chin. I go through spurts where I will commit to losing weight and I will go to the gym for a few weeks and carry around a water bottle. My weight keeps yo-yoing. I know that I can lose the weight if I really tried, but I can't seem to make myself try. I am stuck in a cycle where I eat when I'm happy, sad, or bored. I feel gross and ugly, so I eat to make myself feel better, but then I feel worse. Tonight my mom called and out of the blue asked me if she could give me money each week to go to Jenny Craig. I was stunned into silence. I know I need to lose weight but it's embarrassing to be at the point where my mom is wanting to give me $100 a week of her own money to fund my weight loss. I am thankful that she is concerned and that she wants to help me but I feel like a failure. Why is it so easy to give up and not care about eating right and exercising than to take care of the only body that I'll ever have?
At 16 years old, I was probably a size 14. Not horrible, but I could have stood to have lost a few pounds. My teenage self, however, thought that this was horrible. One weekend, I got a stomach bug and lost my appetite. After a few days of not eating, I thought that I could handle going without food. This began my Mountain Dew addiction--I drank Mountain Dew and Surge (now I'm showing my age) so that I had enough energy to make it through a day of high school, homework, and my part time fast-food job. I would lie to my mom and tell her that I would get dinner work on my break, and I would tell my coworkers that I had ate supper at home before I came in. No one thought to question me. I ended up losing about 30 pounds in a month and ended up being a size 10. I felt glorious. I reveled in the attention I was getting. Only after my boyfriend at the time drew a line in the sand did I start eating again. Somehow I managed to maintain the weight loss through my college years.
In college, I slowly started gaining weight. I attribute my weight gain to starting birth control pills rather than the stereotypical "freshman 15." I didn't put the weight on overnight--instead it was more of a slow creep. By the time I started my first year of law school, I was 205 lbs. 205 scared me. Men are supposed to weigh over 200 pounds, not women. I signed up for Weight Watchers and began attending meetings. I actually did really well with the program and lost about 20 pounds in 2 months. I was so freaking proud of myself. Of course, my pride dwindled and my weekly losses became miniscule. I stopped going to meetings and began eating whatever I wanted. Law school sucked. It was stressful, it was hard, and I hated every minute. I began to use food as a treat. "Yay, I made it through finals, I deserve to go to Chipotle!" "Today sucked. I want to go to Sonic and get a milkshake to make myself feel better." The weight I lost came back and invited some of its friends.
The year after law school, I was asked to be maid of honor in a friend's wedding. This friend was a girl that I went to high school with and looked up to. She was in the popular crowd and I was not. Actually, we barely spoke to each other back then. While I was in law school, she found me on Myspace and we realized that we had tons in common and became good friends. I was so thrilled and honored to be asked to be in her wedding; especially as maid of honor. I figured that her wedding would be like a mini class reunion of sorts and I was determined not to be the fat bridesmaid. The wedding was scheduled for early August. On January 1st, I was a size 18. I told my friend to order my dress in a 14 so that I would be forced to lose weight. Equipped with a membership to the local gym and a folder of Weight Watchers material from a few year back, I began the process of fitting into that dress. By God, I did. I lost 50 freaking pounds. I felt pretty. I felt attractive. I felt sexy. People I hadn't seen in awhile told me how great I looked. Others would ask me what my secret was. I felt empowered and loved the attention. I loved clothes shopping for the first time in years.
I started working in my chosen career--law and was constantly on the go. Lunch with coworkers, long dockets, jail visits, and commuting brought back bad habits and those 50 pounds seemed to quickly jump back on me. I gained back all that hard-lost weight and then added another, gulp, 50 pounds to it. I now weigh 100 pounds more than I did back in 2007. I feel gross. I feel undesirable. I can't see my toes. I have stretch marks on my upper arms and I feel like I no longer have a chin. I go through spurts where I will commit to losing weight and I will go to the gym for a few weeks and carry around a water bottle. My weight keeps yo-yoing. I know that I can lose the weight if I really tried, but I can't seem to make myself try. I am stuck in a cycle where I eat when I'm happy, sad, or bored. I feel gross and ugly, so I eat to make myself feel better, but then I feel worse. Tonight my mom called and out of the blue asked me if she could give me money each week to go to Jenny Craig. I was stunned into silence. I know I need to lose weight but it's embarrassing to be at the point where my mom is wanting to give me $100 a week of her own money to fund my weight loss. I am thankful that she is concerned and that she wants to help me but I feel like a failure. Why is it so easy to give up and not care about eating right and exercising than to take care of the only body that I'll ever have?
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Don't Forget To Breathe
Sounds like a no-brainer, doesn't it? You inhale a deep breath of oxygen and release it. Repeat. Today was one of those days where inhaling and exhaling was easier said than done. As I sat in a chair at a local salon, waiting for errant hairs to be forcibly removed from my face, my stylist leaned down and said "Are you breathing? Don't forget to breathe." I suppose in my apprehension of having those errant hairs ripped from my skin, I forgot the simple task of allowing air to enter my lungs
I had court today. It should have been one of those days where I could sit prettily at the defense table and play on my phone as I waited for my handful of cases to be called. For the most part, I did get to do that (and add some delicious looking pins to my "Crock in the Pot" board on Pinterest) but it seemed like I couldn't walk through the hallway or stand up without someone stopping me wanting me to try to get their case called sooner. Ask, ask, ask. Demand, demand, demand. I know it's the nature of the job and most days I truly enjoy my work and want to help people but today it seemed to irk me. What happened to "please" and "thank you"? My parents taught me at an early age that those words can get you far in life. I truly wish that more people had learned that lesson. After the third time of being flagged down (after telling this same person "no" twice before), I realized that I had forgotten to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Here's hoping that tomorrow I won't have to think twice before doing this simple task.
I had court today. It should have been one of those days where I could sit prettily at the defense table and play on my phone as I waited for my handful of cases to be called. For the most part, I did get to do that (and add some delicious looking pins to my "Crock in the Pot" board on Pinterest) but it seemed like I couldn't walk through the hallway or stand up without someone stopping me wanting me to try to get their case called sooner. Ask, ask, ask. Demand, demand, demand. I know it's the nature of the job and most days I truly enjoy my work and want to help people but today it seemed to irk me. What happened to "please" and "thank you"? My parents taught me at an early age that those words can get you far in life. I truly wish that more people had learned that lesson. After the third time of being flagged down (after telling this same person "no" twice before), I realized that I had forgotten to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Here's hoping that tomorrow I won't have to think twice before doing this simple task.
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