How graduate school is like being pregnant and having a baby at the same time

I have so many posts to make it’s ridiculous.

Upcoming will be:

  • A follow-up on my spring break adventures in Denver
  • Things I’m learning about social media copyright, terms of use, and all the bullshit associated with the two
  • A new look at an old concept: Realizing you’re old — Attendance of an undergrad friend’s wedding and having the doc at the student medical center put ’92 instead of ’82 as my birth year on a prescription.

Today, I’m obsessed with something I’ve really always been obsessed with, but have some new thoughts on. I read a blog post called The grad school thirty from a cohort recently about how grad school is affecting her weight, eating habits, workouts, etc. Kate hit [most] of what I’m feeling right on the head. I’ve never exactly been athletic or into working out, but my lord things have gotten out of control. I look at pictures of myself at various stages in my life and rehash the weight roller-coaster I’ve ridden my entire life. But now, oh now, I have finally crept back up to that weight I was my junior year of undergrad that I SWORE I would never get back to.

I go through all the normal stuff:

  • It’s so unfair that some people can eat whatever they want and stay skinny.
  • I would give anything to be the kind of person that enjoyed working out.
  • I use food to make me feel better and when I’m already feeling good. Totally addicted.
  • My sleep and work schedule is different every single day and it’s hard to get into a routine.
  • Blah blah blah blah blah, waaaahhhhhhaaaaaaaaa! *spit

My weight progression, in pictures.

Start here


On the other side of this, a friend of mine in Ohio has been on a tw0-year, life changing journey to healthy and happy. She is truly an inspiration to anyone that wants to lose any amount of weight and she has written an amazing blog to go along with it.

The human brain is a funny thing. I am so so so happy for my friend, but there is that uncontrollable part of me that is so so so jealous of her. There’s no part of me that isn’t happy for her, but why can’t I be just, only, solely, happy for her without that extra jealousy* as a footnote?

Well, I know why. Cause I am perfectly capable of doing what she has done and my current state is a result of my unhappiness with my physical self — nothing to do with her.  I am mentally and physically capable of going to the gym, counting calories and making my health a priority. And instead of putting on my damn sneakers this very moment and going for a run, I’m sitting at my computer writing this whiny blog post. Really, Margaret? Really? There is a completely awesome, totally free gym at your disposal 24 hours a day. Why don’t you just go there?

And now I’m talking to myself… Back to the point.

Because it’s like having a baby and being pregnant. I’m tired. my back hurts. I’m not sleeping well. Sometimes I eat cause I’m hungry and sometimes I eat cause I think I should. I’m chasing stuff all over the place. Replace a toddler with a dog and two cats, group projects, professors who don’t have any idea how to actually teach, keeping laundry and house work done to the point my apartment isn’t condemned one night while I’m at the library and on and on. I know there’s a reward at the end. I can feel it. But will it hurry up already? Can someone induce my master’s degree, or even this summer, please?

And what would it be like to want an epidural and have them tell you it’s not possible? There’s none available for me. We’ll just do a C-Section without any anesthetic at all. Oh, and it’s going to take about three months to complete. Well, that would be my advertising class.

Now I’ll try to defend myself: I do eat, for the most part, healthily. I have sugar-free protein shakes for breakfast every day. I eat lots of veggies, 100% whole wheat and whole grain goodies, almond milk and the like. I don’t eat fast food more than two or three times a month. I don’t drink sodas on a daily basis — maybe two a week. I drink lots of water.

BBBBBUUUUUUUTTTTTTT: I just EAT WAY TOO MUCH! Like way too much. And I drink beer a couple of times a week, which is probably as bad as drinking an extra 2 liter of soda. But as I’m writing this, I get panicky about the thought of not having my crutches. (I managed to quit smoking only because I adopted an e-cig instead.) But generally, school is my excuse. I have no schedule. I have no mental capacity for anything other than school work. Grad school has made my brain stronger and my body sad and weak. If someone threw me in the Hunger Games arena right now, I’d be so screwed.


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