Watson's Waistline

College students are well aware of the urban legend of the “freshman 15.” Incoming freshmen, given the freedom to eat whenever and whatever they want for the first time, are said to gain an average of 15 pounds during their first year. Those punks have nothing on me.

It’s time for me to stop lying to myself. I don’t have pants that fit me anymore. My shirts have gone from large to extra-large. The tires on my car lose about 5 pounds of air pressure a day. I have no choice but to face the truth: I’m getting fat.

When I came back to school in September 2008 after a two-year layoff, I was a slim and trim (for me) 240 pounds. After three semesters back in class, I’ve packed on anywhere from 35 to 40 extra pounds, depending on the time of day and number of five-dollar foot-longs I’m currently eating as I step on the scale. To put it in social networking terms, I’ve gone from “average” body type to “more to love” in the course of 18 months. Freshman 15? Ha! I’m working on my “senior 45.”

The shock of my new weight has forced to re-evaluate how I’m living my life and how I can save me from myself. Fortunately, that part is simple, as the recipe for my disaster is the same as the “freshman 15”: stress from school combined with the fact students often have limited amounts of time to eat, which forces them to find whatever is on hand and convenient, which leads to making consistently bad dietary choices.

So, I’ve committed myself to cleaning up my act and losing back all the weight I’ve put on. However, as those who try to get into shape know, the hardest challenge to anyone who is trying to lose weight is keeping motivated.

That’s where you guys come in.

I’m going to use my columns for the rest of this semester to tell the story of my journey of getting back into shape, with all the horror stories and little victories that come with it. With any luck, knowing people are reading how things are going (which, judging by my last column’s stats, means two of you) will help keep me on the straight and narrow.

Either that, or the gravitational pull of my ever-expanding waistline will cause the planet to collapse in on itself. So, for the sake of the world, wish me luck.