College ended up becoming another obstacle. There were multiple cafeterias and cafes, and even a Taco Bell Express (that I avoided, but longed for, like a girl crushing on the high school’s star athlete) scattered along campus. I made friends, and learned that food was a big part of having a social life. My small group of new friends and I would meet for meals at bustling cafeterias (it was a small campus, yet everyone seemed to have dinner at the same time) where not only did you have to carry a tray with food on it but you had to weave your way to a table through mobs of hungry, rowdy college students. It was a nightmare, one I could have easily avoided, except I would then be sacrificing my new social life. And college, for a shy, underfed freshman, can be scary. As independent as four years of high school without any friends had made me, I was still human. I still wanted companionship. I might have been malnourished, but I wasn’t dead.
One evening I joined a friend for an early dinner at one of the cafes before class. I quickly grabbed a slice of pizza and a Chipwich sandwich, since those were a few of the help-yourself items (I just couldn’t bring myself to ask for the hero sandwiches that dazzled me with their fullness), and sat across the table from my friend. I watched hungrily as she circled her fork into the bowl of pasta she had ordered and brought the utensil to her mouth. I watched her do this a few times without speaking. As usual, I imagined myself eating that same meal, alone, in my dorm room, with buttery garlic bread the size of my palm as the perfect side. Then, without thinking, I said, “That’s really cool, how you can do that.”
She stopped, her fork halfway to her mouth, and looked at me.
“What did you say?”
“I said it was cool that you can do that…you know. Eat spaghetti, and in public.”
She continued to look at me, then slowly put the food in her mouth, and continued to watch me as she chewed.
“I think you may have an eating disorder,” she said after she had swallowed.
I was not surprised she thought this. We had become fast friends and immediate meal partners, having at least two meals together a day, so she was familiar with my oddities.
“I used to think that maybe I did, too,” I informed her, “but I’m not thin enough.”
“You definitely have an eating disorder,” she responded.