The Freshman Fifteen

I gained the freshman 15.

Whoop, there it is: the dreaded weight gain that many students experience when they leave the controlled environment of home to experience college for the first time. So dreaded, in fact, that the phrase autocorrects itself in my phone to become a proper noun: The Freshman 15.

The Freshman 15 is one of the bigger taboos that can plague a young college goer’s life, besides a romantic partner ending it over text. If you Google “freshman 15,” the first articles that come up are about why it happens, how to get rid of it, how to avoid it, etc. But none of these articles bring up the positive causes or effects of this notorious weight gain. Yes, you read that right: p-o-s-i-t-i-v-e.

No, it isn’t fun to suddenly feel self-conscious about jiggles that were not there before or to catch your high school friends’ moms’ giving you elevator stares because you aren’t as skinny as you used to be. And no, weight gain is rarely “good for you.” But, with that being said, I do want to explain the other side of the story, because the memories that accompany each pound gained mean more to me than any number on a scale.

I am not trying to encourage unhealthy weight gain or a “lazy lifestyle.” I am saying that there is another side to the story.

This past May, I wrapped up my freshman year at UC Berkeley. Many things changed for me – for the better and for the worse – but I can easily say it was the best time of my life.

I spent my entire high school existence in a tiny private school, plagued by constant anxiety and shitty gossip with fake friends. However, I never had to worry about my weight and pretty much metabolized anything I ate immediately; my parents even used to joke that I must have had a tapeworm because nothing I ate could affect my frame. So, although my heroic metabolism eventually gave up on me in college, I found peace of mind and finally moved past the nervousness that used to consume me and found true friends that brought little drama with them.

Even once I realized that my 13-year-old lifestyle didn’t work for my 18-year-old body anymore, I didn’t restrict myself nor plan my days around making my body look how it did before I hit puberty. I kept going on runs because of the outlet they offer me and I tried to eat healthy, but that didn’t always happen. And that was perfectly okay. I could have started a diet or incorporated a long workout into every day, but that wasn’t going to make me happy.

Instead of tracking every calorie going into my body or restricting my bread consumption or working out for a certain number of hours every day, I journaled. A lot. It was something I hadn’t done in a couple years, even though I have always wanted to be a journalist. The last years of high school stressed me out so much that I forgot about my passion for writing, only to re-discover my love for it during freshman year.

I also became close friends with some of the most astonishingly genuine people I have ever met. Yes, there are times I could have said no to a late-night pizza or an impromptu boba run, but without them, I wouldn’t have met one of the most interesting incoming freshman women – one whose smarts impressed me, and cool demeanor inspired me. I also wouldn’t have been able to help out a friend dealing with issues at home nor found one of the most fun-loving friend groups at the end of the year to become my own. I wouldn’t have enjoyed game days nearly as much without drunkenly sharing grossly overpriced hot dogs with new friends in stadium seats. The times making fun of how mysterious the dining hall food only brought me closer together with my then, new friends. Instead of working out in the afternoons, I spent almost every waking minute in my best friends’ dorm room, snuggling awkwardly with them in the tiny twin beds and telling stories that bonded us deeply.

Of course, there are people who still created strong friendships without gaining 15 pounds. But for me, every pound I gained is intimately connected to the memories I made, and the people I befriended are now as much a part of me as my stretchmarks are.

While writing this article now, I would be lying if I said I didn’t wish I could have picked slightly healthier options every once in a while, said no to a couple slices of late-night pizza, and gone on a couple more runs. But, I will never forget the way that freshman year and all its laughs made me feel.

The numbers on my scale could never tell a story like that.

By Alex Hansen

UC Berkeley student, lover of carbs, and proclaimed knower of all rap lyrics