When my friends say negative things about their bodies, talk about juice cleanses, or skip meals, I worry. I worry about what’s making them feel this way. I worry about how to be there for them. I worry about how much they’re going to end up sacrificing. We need to spend more time on our wellbeing. We cannot put our bodies and minds below every other task on our to-do list. We and our peers will bear the consequences.
I know there’s no one reason that weight changes. I didn’t lose weight intentionally. Food simply had the frustrating ability to make me alert, and I was too miserable to want any part of that. I slept for about four hours a night and left my room, a double, as soon as I opened my eyes so that I could be alone as much as possible. I didn’t want anyone to see me struggling, and I wanted to ignore it myself by keeping busy. I was convinced that reaching out to others would just make them think I was crazy.
The less I ate, the worse my attendance became. The more behind I fell in class, the less I ate. After two months of this, I had lost 20 pounds: I was, medically speaking, underweight. Nevertheless, I received toxic positive feedback from family members like the one who, over Thanksgiving, poked me in the ribs and said “skinny — good.” These types of comments, no matter how small, still play in my mind from time to time. Even when they are intended as compliments, they do a lot more harm than good.
Through changing my dorm room and obtaining accommodations, I did my best to take advantage of whatever academic support I could find. I slowly started gaining back my weight and sleeping through the night. I cannot stress enough how much easier everyday chores became once the burden of hunger and exhaustion were lifted.
As college students, we are trained to rely on evidence. We read literature to learn and cite our sources so that others know we are relying on facts. But this rational thinking rarely applies when it comes to body image. While I was struggling, my mind actively sought any reason, no matter how ridiculous, to reject food. Somehow I thought eating less would resolve all of my stresses and worries, but it only exacerbated them.
No matter their relationship to food, I want to remind others at the College of the importance of making the time to eat. As we register for classes, please keep this in mind. If you have classes all morning until 1 p.m., make sure you still have the time for lunch afterward. If committing to four extracurriculars will leave you with no time for dinner, please reconsider what you are signing up for. Your body and mind deserve the care.
As the days get shorter and classes pick up in intensity, it’s all the more important to cultivate a supportive community. Check in with your friends, check in with yourself, and ask for support if you’re having a hard time eating this semester. That might look like stepping into spaces like therapy or stepping out of commitments that take more than they give. Asking for help is not a sign of failure — it’s an act that requires great courage. No matter what that looks like for you, it will sustain you a lot longer than adrenaline will.
Olivia Helfrich-Tapia ’26 is a psychology and Spanish major and Latina/o studies concentrator from Newton, Mass.
