COLUMN: The 'sophomore 20'
My freshmen year at Central Michigan University, I boldly escaped the "freshmen 15."
To be honest, I still gained seven pounds, but the fact that I managed to escape a weight gain more inevitable then Snooki getting pregnant again should not only count as a small miracle, but also as an inspirational success.
After all, if I could overcome a universal law such as the "Freshmen 15," what then should stop me from overcoming much lesser feats, like curing cancer or ending world hunger?
What no one ever told me about was the "Sophomore 20."
Granted, there is a reason for this. After you go from the figure of Will Smith to Fat Albert in less then eight months, you will undoubtedly be subject to your parents' inquiries over summer break as to whether you are wearing a fat suit, or whether looking like a diabetic rhinoceros is "in" these days.
This, and every mirror you ever run across, will be enough inspiration for you to begin working out again, start eating vegetables that aren't fried and even stick to one serving in the cafeteria. This will end any possibility of a significant sophomore weight gain.
There is only one error in this hypothesis, and it is a big one. It never accounted for me being introduced to Ben and Jerry's ice cream upon my return to campus.
I remember as a small child, the condescending brat that I was, watching a news report about the Ben and Jerry's families, which depicted the children of the families being introduced to the product, and then becoming morbidly obese because of it.
Although my memory is too vague to remember such specifics, I would imagine that I instantly stood up, pointed at the screen and laughed at the children for having such little self control. I was grossly mistaken in my judgement, because I had yet to experience Ben and Jerry's, which is, in all regards, frozen cocaine.
There are a couple of elements that make Ben and Jerry's the sugary death-trap that it is. One is the quality of the ice-cream itself, which uses only fair-trade ingredients, and therefore is creamier than cream itself, but it is also the flavors that the company has developed.
Our society has done little to help those of us trapped within Ben and Jerry's grasp. Unlike any other common addiction in the country, there is no place for us addicted to Ben and Jerry's to turn, and little incentive for us to fight the crippling cravings.
Some would argue that the 12-step program of Overeaters Anonymous or the hundreds of diet programs advertised nationwide are more than enough of a response. But there is a fundamental misunderstanding found here, because although these programs may be more than adequate for addictions to foods like fried chicken, hash brownies or 1885 formula Coca-Cola, these methods do little to combat the addictive properties of Vermont's finest ice cream.
What is the point of this column? I really don't know. There is one thing it definitely is not though. This isn’t in any way a message to stop eating Ben and Jerry’s. Not only would that make the student body fall into an insurmountable depression, but even worse, it would personally feel like a betrayal on my part.
I have developed an emotional attachment to Ben and Jerry’s similar to that of which I will develop to my first child.
Just don’t eat too much of it, you may break your scale, and those things are expensive.
