My sister at school in Wellesley, MA where food is always around...

D.C., eating, and I do not get along. Since September I have struggled to find a pattern that works for me (one that I can afford and will not make me morbidly obese). All my other schools (and I have attended a lot), have provided meal plans so students are not constantly paying out of pocket to feed themselves. That is the world I belong in.

I miss the days when I could stroll into a cafeteria with a squillion dining options on display. For some reason, it was always easy to turn down cheeseburgers in favor of salads when I knew they were always going to be available to me. I got into the habit of filling a Nalgene bottle full of iced coffee every time the caf opened and taking around 73547292 apples to eat later. I never went hungry, managed to stay skinny, and I had more money for Free People. Life was good.

Life took a nasty turn for the worse when I arrived in DC with very little money saved and the responsibility of paying for my food. I got into a horrible system of waiting until so famished that I’d buy everything in sight, making me both uncomfortably full and way broker. Grocery shopping was a nightmare because it entailed buying items with the intention of cooking. Cooking may as well be Chemistry class for me (i.e. impossible), but even if I did know how, my roommate and my kitchen supplies consists of two plates and two bowls.

I still have not found a system that works for me. Mostly, I live in fear of the next time I’ll get hungry. My roommate and I live for the days when family or friends come to visit because we know it means getting to eat properly. Having to provide my own food was a good experience, I suppose, I just really have got to get better at it. Or win the lottery.