It’s a common conversation between my friends and me. How much have you eaten today? My friend tells me a story about how when he visited home from college his family sent him back with a massive box of Clif protein bars because he was “so skinny.” He laughs it off. “Food costs money,” is all he says. Later, I’m making dinner for a friend — oven-baked pizza and frozen green beans — when she admits to me that she hasn’t really eaten today. She had some snacks and some macarons from the boba place down the road, but this is the first real meal she’s eaten all day. It’s 9 p.m.
The percentage of college students at risk of eating disorders has risen to 28% — epidemic levels, a 13% increase from 2013, a 3% uptick during the pandemic alone. It almost seems surprising, until you really stop to consider what college is like.
When I was a freshman, I lived in the University Center on a meal plan. I had grown up a picky eater and now, relying on the cafeteria for all my meals brought back all my uneasiness. There were always a couple “safe”’ options. There was pizza every night if you got there in time. There were burgers, and sometimes I would get the chicken nuggets. I’d try my best to make space for a vegetable, but I don’t like spinach, squash or Brussels sprouts. Every day at lunch there was a deli counter, and every day I’d get the same exact thing, to the point where the sweet woman who worked at the counter started remembering my order.
I never cooked while I lived at the UC; my room only had a microwave and my toaster, which got confiscated halfway through the year because it was barely over the 1000-watt limit. The highest-tech meal I ever made in my dorm was microwave mac n’ cheese, mixed with microwave broccoli. On weekends they didn’t serve breakfast, but I was never up early enough to make the breakfast times from 7 a.m. to 9 a.m. anyway, so I never ate breakfast there. Sometimes, I would just never eat breakfast at all.
Arguably, these are unhealthy eating habits. Skipping meals and excluding categories of food from your diet are both considered as disordered eating by Dr. Evelyn Attia with NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital. Physically, these practices can lead to headaches, less energy, hair loss and dry skin along with other things. Mentally, it can be incredibly damaging — depression, anxiety, irritability, mood swings, lack of concentration and isolation are just some of the side effects. But to every college student, it seems more or less… normal.
Nobody’s college experience will ever be exactly the same, and the same can be said for our eating habits. However, there seems to be common trends — which we should consider taking more seriously.
“I feel like I don’t have the time to eat, and when I do, I can’t be bothered to cook,” one student says. “I can’t spend time learning or have the motivation to.” They didn’t learn at home and don’t have time to now, a sentiment shared by 36% of young adults. And it’s not easy to learn, even if they did have the time. When I moved to my apartment, I was lucky to have pots and pans passed down from my grandparents. Other students don’t have this, and even at Goodwill, basic cooking equipment can run you a fair amount, regardless if you want new stuff. My non-stick cooking pan started chipping up last year, but I’m still using it to make quesadillas daily.
Another student confides that she finds it hard to take accountability for her eating habits. Many kids — myself included — used to get called down by their parents for dinner. I haven’t lived with them for three years now, and my dinner times fluctuate day to day. No one tells me to “clear my plate.”
The stories continue — everyone’s got one. In attempts to battle college stressors, some of my friends turn to controlling their food intake. College is a massive workload compared to most lower education. When your scholarships rest upon your grades, it can be impossible not to feel overwhelmed. In the face of everything out of your control, it’s reassuring to be able to rule over one thing, at least. Then there’s the day to day; the days where you have so many classes you can’t eat, right next to the days you have no classes at all. The difference between a 9 a.m. class and a 3 p.m. class can change my lunch time by hours. And if your classes overlap with the UC cafeteria hours and you can’t make dinner, there’s no recourse for you other than a 7/11 sandwich.
Then, there’s what’s on everyone’s minds — money. “Often I wouldn’t eat to save money. I lost weight from it,” says another student. This may be the most damning one. Forty-two percent of independent undergraduate students — not claimed on a guardian’s taxes — are in or near poverty, according to the Pew Research Center. You’re more likely to be food insecure if you’re below the poverty line. And when you don’t eat, the body gets used to it, making healthy eating harder. Combined with other factors, like the lack of accountability, returning to healthy eating habits can be incredibly straining. “I had to make sure I ate multiple times a day to force my body back to what it should be,” says the student, on his recovery. He had to force himself.
Yet, it’s just seen as college behavior. Teens never wake up on time for breakfast. Students love ramen, right? And they’re all spending too much anyway — no wonder they can’t afford anything better.
There are a couple steps the college may be able to take to nip this in the bud. Something as simple as a required beginner level cooking class can allow students to get the basics down. Since Columbia doesn’t have cooking spaces, these classes can just review best practices: how to wash and handle produce, safe cooking times for meat. Another thing that is overlooked is the time between classes. While usually there’s a 40-minute lunch break between 11:50 and 12:30, if you have a 6:20 class straight into a 6:30 class, you’re out of luck. Columbia could push 6:30 classes back to 7:00, allowing for another guaranteed 40-minute dinner break. This could work in conjunction with expanded cafeteria hours at the UC to allow more students access to meals.
Even with these solutions implemented, it won’t get to the root of the issue. College will always be a breeding ground for eating disorders unless there’s a massive overhaul on why college is so stressful — and why college students are so broke.
But, when we leave college, how will these behaviors follow us for the rest of our lives? When I move out after my last year, will I have the money to get groceries? How many things do I know how to cook, anyway? Will I even have the time or urge to eat?
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