My first semester of college was fake. It had to be, I felt like I was stuck on a country bumpkin midwest version of ‘The Hills’. Not only did it feel like that, but majority of the girls who lived on my floor had actually gone to the extremes of OWNING ‘The Hills’ on DVD.
Anyway, all the chicks on my floor came from another planet that was probably populated by other droids like themselves. They all tanned in between the hours of 2-6pm, they wore nothing but Victoria’s Secret sweatsuits, and they all had skunk hair. (Skunk Hair: a dye job consisting of both black/brunette and platinum blonde) These girls were always nice to my face but behind closed doors they liked to use their outdoor voice and turn up cross-over-pop-country really loud. (Or god forbid the ‘superman that hoe’ song)
Another thing that these chicks found difficult was healthy eating habits. I really don’t understand how someone can eat nothing but Easy Mac, pizza, Oreos and beer for more than three days and not blow up of constipation. (Or just blow up for the sake of blowing up) They were always running to the ‘community room’ to use the microwave because low and behold their room mate was using their microwave to nuke some other starch parfait. I don’t want to admit that I was the ‘Girl who hates beer and picks at a salad with her other sneery friend’ but I was indeed the ’Girl who hates beer and picks at a salad with her other sneery friend’.
That’s exactly how I avoided gaining any weight my freshman year. And all the years after that. I had a sour elitist attitude and would flaunt my salad eating in front of all the fake bakin’ bitches. I’d parade around in the halls crunching on carrots with my mouth open like a moo cow. (Crunch Crunch Crunch over all that shitty country music!) Sometimes, I would just stand outside of these girls doors during sleeping hours and eat carrots, and when I heard them rustling around I’d bolt away like a complete loon. My crowning moment of healthy treating was when all the good looking boys flocked to my room one weekend because I was giving out rice cakes and Nutella. The girls didn’t know about the rice cakes, they thought I was just giving out pussy. (Oh yeah, me and my high standards are hanging out in my room getting triple teamed by all these polo shirt collar poppin’ virgins.)
The other trick? Not drinking beer. Or drinking an entire bottle of vodka over the course of two nights. Little did these dumb bitches know that every shot they took was 200+ calories. By the end of my first semester, all these hot to trot ladies now looked like kegs with legs. Tall and short chicks alike, everyone but me was rocking an awesome beer gut. Except for that one girl who didn’t know she was six months pregnant. (I kid you not, the girl had no clue… She could have been on that ridiculous ‘I didn’t know I was pregnant’ show on Comedy Central. Oops I mean TLC)
One last thing. Citrus water. In the cafeteria they had these huge jugs of ice water that had lemons or limes or oranges or grapefruits in them. I’m not sure how many people are aware of this, but citrus water does some serious appetite diminishing. I’d go roaring into the buffet line with the munchies of a manly man but my beast was always calmed by the giant glistening jugs of citrus water. (In fact, most hunger stems from dehydration. To avoid over eating, drink some fluids first and wait awhile. Still hungry? Then go eat dammit!)
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