Amara Rockar: Facing eating disorders at Penn

Earlier this week, I walked into the 1920 Commons bathroom and thought I'd gone back in time. There it was: that sound, the stifled retching interspersed with the flushing toilets. I paused and heard the coughing and the sniffling followed by more retching. I don't know how, but I managed to kid myself into thinking I'd left all this stuff behind in high school.

I went to an all-girls' school in St. Louis. We liked to think we were the smart ones, better than all those pretty girls at our rival school down the street. (We also liked to think we were pretty cute, too.) You see, it was those other girls who had eating disorders. We were too smart for that. There was a schoolwide joke on how much we collectively liked to eat.

But then how did we all stay so thin? I mean, those polyester skirts were like cameras -- they added at least 10 pounds. It was amazing; at the boys' school proms, we were the only girls who not only ordered more than just a salad, but also ate it.

I recently estimated that out of the 60 girls in my graduating class, at least a fourth of them had an eating disorder one time during their six years there. By my senior year, I was painfully aware that I was the fifth "most overweight" girl in my class. And by overweight, I mean not at least 10 pounds below the proper body mass index for my height. But I never succumbed, never gave into my fears even though I considered myself "the hoss" on the soccer team.

That is, until this summer. I don't know what it was. Maybe because my parents moved away to Pennsylvania and I didn't really know anyone in the area. Or perhaps I wanted to make sure I could impress my new classmates at Penn. I may not know the cause, but I do know that I exercised almost 20 hours a week during the summer. This while working 40 hours a week at the local bagel shop. Although I still ate my three meals a day, I'm pretty sure there's no way in hell that could have been healthy. Or sane.

I came to Penn 20 pounds lighter and incredibly unhappy. I was afraid to eat in front of my new hallmates, and in many ways, I still am. I definitely hated how orientation and class took away from my rigid exercise regime. It wasn't until mid-September that I broke down had my first cookie at the dining hall. October for my first slice of pizza.

It may not surprise you that I work at the gym. It probably doesn't surprise you that I see people come out of the weight room, take my exercise class and then walk right back into the weight room. I see girls on the same StairMaster for my entire three-hour shift as a fitness assistant.

While I wait in line for my veggie burger at Houston, I hear guys boast about their crazy protein diets, how much they can lift and how they're getting their steroids. At Commons, there are tables where the girls stop picking at their food after 10 minutes while the guys get seconds after seconds plus dessert. The girls insist they're full when asked but stare longingly at the triple-scoop of chocolate ice cream across the table from them.

I can't tell you anything you haven't heard before, about how these disorders are terrible, terrible, destructive diseases with lifelong consequences. How they're not so much about being thin or buff but about control and perfection. And at this giant Ivy League school, who doesn't sometimes feel as if they're losing their grip on things? As if there are so many ways they could be better than they are?

I waited until the bathroom was empty. I think the other women in there thought I was nuts or some kind of creep. Or maybe they heard the noise too. I guess I'll never really know.

Finally, I walked up to the handicap stall's closed door and asked her if she was okay. She said she was fine, it was just that time of the month and that this always happens. "You get your period and then you throw up?" I asked. She said yes. I stood there for a second not really sure what to do. I told her my name was Amara and that I'd be upstairs if she wanted to talk.

I didn't see those Nike sneakers and purple sweatpants for the rest of the night.

I may not have known what to do in that situation, but I do know what this university needs to do as whole. I'll quote Rage Against The Machine, my favorite band from back in high school: Wake up.Amara Rockar is a freshman in the College.

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