Welcome to Cornell Diaries, where we print the anonymous recorded lives of Cornell students. While The Sun maintains the confidentiality of each writer, all facts have been verified and all diaries record the truth.
Tuesday , September 28th
7:30 a.m.: I woke up this morning and it was freezing in my dorm. I don’t know how my roommate can sleep with no blankets and in skimpy pj’s. I go to grab a pair of jeans for the first time this semester. Bye-bye shorts. Huh. They don’t zip. I jump and wiggle around my room, but the jeans won’t zip. They’re probably my skinny jeans.
7:50 a.m.: After trying on 2 more pairs of jeans, I have given up in defeat and put on a pair of sweatpants. As I leave the room, I glance at the mountain of jeans next to my bed. I hope my roommate doesn’t wake up and see the pile. She’ll probably blame it on my late night snack adventures. I blame it on stress.
8:20 a.m.: Class is boring. But I can feel my stomach growling. Ugh, why am I hungry!? I ate at muffin already and a coffee. I don’t have time for a second breakfast. And the whole morning’s ‘Jean War’ has left a bad taste in my mouth.
9:30 a.m..: I can just feel the fat bunching up around my bra strap. Ugh, how am I supposed to concentrate on compilers and trees when I feel like a left-over McDonald’s Big Mac.
11:00 a.m.: I’m going on a diet.
11:01 a.m.: Tomorrow.
1:30 p.m.: I tell my lunch buddy that I’m going on a diet. He tells me I’m not fat. I tell him that he wasn’t in my bedroom watching me put on jeans. He makes a crude joike and I punch him. Look at that, I just completed my first work out. Maybe excersing won’t be as bad as it was in high school.
10:30 p.m.: I decide to finish up whatever is left of my pint of Cornell Dairy ice-cream. I don’t feel guilty about it since Cornell Dairy won’t be around much longer, so I might as well enjoy it while it lasts. It also acts as my ‘last treat.’
Wednesday , September 29th
6:45 a.m.: It’s too fucking early and too fucking cold to go for a run. But I see the pile of jeans still laying on the ground. As much as I want to stay in my bed, I get up.
7:00 a.m.: I tie up my sneakers, put on my iPod earphone and begin to stretch. I think I remember my gym teacher telling us to stretch our hamstrings or we’ll cramp up early. I really don’t feel like sitting in class with a bum leg.
7:05 a.m.: This hurts. A lot.
7:06 a.m.: How does everyone else look so professional doing this? It’s like they all trained for the Olympics and I’m training for elementary school track.
7:07 a.m.: Why am I doing this again?
7:40 a.m.: I crawl into the shower. I want to crawl up in a ball not leave. But I have class where attendance counts. At least that’s what my friend says (if you’re reading this and you lied to me just to have a friend in class, I’ll never introudce you to my single friends ever again).
7:45 a.m.: I have to walk to class. Damnnit.
9:05 a.m.: I tell my friends about my accomplishment of not only waking up early, but running at Cornell. They are pretty impressed. Most of them don’t even own a pair of sneakers.
1:45 p.m: For lunch, I chow down on a salad. While I really wanted a grilled cheese, this will have to do.
Thursday , September 30th
1:00 a.m.: Going to bed hungry is not fun. When I go work for Exxon or Mobile, I’ll donate money to some sort of hungr relief organization. It’s only been a day and I’m going through a bad withdrawl. My legs hurt and I’m stressed from prelims.
6:45 a.m.: My alarm goes off and I forget why it was set to go off. I then realize I have to go running. But I’m in pain. Fine.
7:00 a.m.: I’m actually using the ‘running’ playlist I created in class. I’m trying to make this a game. If I concentrate on the songs, maybe it’ll distract from the pain.
8:20 a.m.: How I made it to class after that run, I’m not sure. I know runner’s get a “high,” but I just feel lightheaded and slightly dreamy. I really want a doughnut.
1:30 p.m.: Lunch at Statler with my usual lunch buddy. He asks me how the diet is going. I tell him to fuck off. We have a wonderful relationship.
1:31 p.m.: I apoligize to my friend. I blame the stress of prelims and the lack of delicious, fatty foods going through my system. He gives me the e-mail address of one of his running friends.
2:20 p.m.: I call up “Jack” and he agrees to take me under his wing. He runs in the afternoon, so I agree to meet him for an evening run.
5:00 p.m.: My worst nightmare has come true- he’s cute. And fit. And he’s in my class. I try to figure out how to figure out how to get out of this, but I can’t.
7:00 p.m.: Looks like I have a new friend and a new reason to stay healthy. Now I just have to figure out if he’s into blondes...