Day 165: Uccchhhh ... I'm Repulsed!

Taken in 1982, just before we left our upstate NY campus for a 24-hour bus ride to Spring Break in Daytona Beach. I'm the one behind the camera.

When I was a freshman in college, there were two things we loved to do above all else: eat and drink.

We felt great about the drinking. We actually kept track of how many nights in a row we got wasted the way a sports team keeps track of its consecutive wins (my personal best? 28).

The eating was another story. While we (and by "we" I mean the core group of girls) all looked forward to food - obsessing about when we would eat and what we would eat and how much we would eat - there was quite a bit of guilt involved. The fact that Katherine, Paula, Nadine and Ellen were all thin wasn't really the point - the point was that they never thought they were thin enough (to be fair, Katherine worried about such things far less than the others). I don't remember a single dining hall meal that didn't involve a running commentary about how many calories were in this, or how fattening that was, or why "I can't believe I'm about to put this in my mouth," or - my personal favorite, uttered on a daily basis as a half-eaten plate of food was shoved aside - "Uccchhhh, I'm repulsed." (The uccchhhh is actually the sound made when the back of the tongue is used to block most of the airway, and then air is forced out anyway.)

Of course, no one who said they were repulsed ever really was, and picking at the shunned food would begin moments later. That's why Paula and Nadine came up with a way to make sure they truly were repulsed - they'd destroy whatever remained of the meal by pouring soda all over it. Suddenly, french fries or a sandwich or even a salad was swimming in - what else - Tab, the era's diet drink of choice.

The only time we ever reveled in our food without complaining (or sabotaging it) was when we stopped for 1:30 a.m. pizza on the way to catch the last bus back up to campus. It was (and still is) the best pizza I've ever eaten. Twenty-four years later, I can still taste it - and I still crave it. I'm not kidding. It was that good.

Before going to college, my self-esteem had already screwed with my body image (or the other way around, maybe) to the point where I felt bulky and ungraceful. But it wasn't until my freshman year that I really understood the concept of "dieting." It was all about counting calories back then, and Paula in particular was a pro. I watched and I learned. I came to understand once and for all that being a woman would mean a lifetime of watching your weight (at best) and hardcore dieting (at worst).

I have a soft spot in my heart for my college friends, and I still keep in touch with Katherine. I have a warehouse full of memories about our four years together (we rented the most disgusting house you can imagine our senior year), but images of eating and drinking pop up again and again (and again).

In fact, just thinking about it makes me want to go have a glass of wine and eat something, but the idea of eating this late, well, you know... uccchhhh. I'm just a little bit repulsed.

But not really. Pass the soda.