It all started with a new year’s resolution.
“I vow to stop dating idiotic jerks,” my best friend Jenny exclaimed loudly, slightly slurring over her words. A round of cheers filled the room, along with some pats on the back from the people sitting next to her.
“I will stop messing around with my philosophy professor and actually earn my grade this semester,” Macie declared boldly, accompanied by roaring laughter and cries of “I knew it!” throughout the lounge.
I lifted my bottle and started hitting on it with a fork, hoping to catch everyone’s attention. I did, once the bottle broke and the beer foamed onto Mark’s head, who was sitting at my feet. He looked up at me and grinned, licking the beer off of his lips. I gave him an apologetic smile and starting speaking.
"I’m going to lose 20 pounds this year, no matter what it takes!” Everyone laughed and congratulated me on my goal. But their attention wasn’t focused on me for too long, I was old news. I’d been making this resolution since I was a junior in high school. Now that I was a freshman in college, everybody seemed to take it for granted that I wouldn’t pull through.
The next morning I awoke to a massive headache as the sun slipped through the broken blinds of our dorm room. I tried pulling the sheets over my head, only to find that I had no sheets. I grasped around, trying to locate the sheets so that I could keep sleeping and pretending that I didn’t feel sick to my stomach. I did find them eventually…wrapped around Mark, who was lying halfway under my bed. I squeezed my eyes shut in desperation. I tried to remember what I did after I got home last night. Surely I didn’t…? No, I couldn’t have. Mark was my best friend, and I’m pretty sure I’d remember if we did…that.
I roll out of bed and start gently kicking him in the side, the kicks getting ever more brutal until he started moaning at me to stop it.
“Mark, get your lazy ass up!” I whisper screamed at him.
“Wha-?” He looked at me with one eye still closed. “What the hell is wrong with you? It’s only,” he looks at the alarm clock, “four in the afternoon.”
“I know damn well what time it is! But what I don’t know is why you are in my dormroom wearing nothing but boxers!”
“Uh maybe ‘cause you threw up all over my clothes last night after I carried you up here? I couldn’t very well leave you down there by yourself. And I didn’t want to go walking back all the way the The Pit (The Pit, in Mark talk, means his dorm) in my boxers.”
“Oh no…no, no, no. You’re not serious are you?”
“Dead serious, my love. But don’t worry, you’re not the only one who made a fool of herself. Macie’s was sleeping upside down on a beanbag in the lounge when we left and James was wearing someone’s, rather large I might add, bra on his head. It could have been worse.”
I groan and slide down the wall next to him.
“This isn’t like me. How did I get so carried away? I never drink that much.”
“I honestly think it may have to do with what you have written on your forehead.”
“Huh?” I stand up and navigate through the piles of clothes and books strewn around my bed, past Sarah’s sleeping form on the other bed and into the bathroom. I look in the mirror and let out a squeal. “Fatty” is written on my forehead in what looks like blood.
“MARK! Who the hell did this? And is that seriously blood?” I shout at him, full of rage.
“Calm down babe. You did that. And no, it’s ketchup.”
“You said you didn’t want to forget your resolution this year. You got so angry when everyone started laughing at you that you starting slamming down shots like there’s no tomorrow.”
Great. Even my intoxicated self knew that I couldn’t pull through with this. And everyone says that you only really start seeing yourself when you’re drunk. So right then and there I decided: either I stop drinking, or I pull myself together and actually lose the weight. Which seemed like a good idea. You always hear how much of a difference a couple of pounds make and how easy it was to lose. And this way, I could drink and not hate myself. And those Freshman 15 definitely needed to go.