Know Your Worth

05

I had underestimated my need for vanilla iced lattes.

At first, I convinced myself that I was just drinking for the taste and nothing else. The delightful sweetness of the vanilla milk and the slight acidity of the brewed coffee was heaven on my taste buds.

It quickly became one of the highlights of my day, right after the lectures and tutorials. I had strictly limited myself to only one a day, but then the stress and misery of the increasing difficulty levels of the modules led to me drinking it twice a day.

If I wasn't careful, I could end up turning to vanilla iced lattes for my complete nutrition and sustenance. 

My veins and arteries might as well pump the lattes instead of blood. My obsession had gotten to the point where even my friends would concernedly point out my caffeine and sugar consumption.

I would just shrug it off, but I did make a mental note to count my calorie intake later on. I was glad that I never crossed the threshold of more than 1800 calories. I'd be careful this time. No more appetite suppressants or laxatives. They are dangerous for my body anyway. I made sure to always include some sort of greens in my meals and curbed my carbs. 

Brown wholemeal bread with avocado with scrambled eggs and breakfast sausages was my breakfast.

White bread was the enemy to be avoided, and I didn't even dare to look at the chocolate chip pancakes drenched in maple syrup and smoked honey butter that Sam and Troy were so fond of.

I did indulge in chicken tenders from time to time and sometimes would even eat a small slice of low-fat cheesecake from the cafeteria. 

Being extremely mindful of what I ate was insanely comforting. The ability to choose the food and drink in my body. The salads with no dressings felt like a lifeline of excellence for me, and while I knew I had to strive for improvement, not perfection, it all felt good to me anyway.

My healthy food choices showed me that I was able to handle university now. I wasn't turning to emotional eating.

I hadn't even binged on Hershey's chocolates, not even once. That in turn led to me having semi-decent skin, which did give me the boost of confidence to join the common hall, once in a blue moon. That and my trusty concealer and eyeliner, of course. 

Nevertheless, I avoided frat parties like the plague. I declined all sorority invites with a firm shake of my head, and any social gatherings that involved athletes were written off by me as just some sort of ass-kissing events for nepotism babies.

It might sound very prejudiced, but my assumptions were not far off the mark when Troy came bursting into my dorm room one night, angry and swearing. Kayla and I were unceremoniously startled, and it was the first time I had ever heard the unassuming, sweet little Kayla curse.

"What the actual fuck, Troy? You can't just fucking barge in when you fucking feel like it? We deserve some privacy, for fuck's sake," she'd hissed at him. 

Troy flinched, and Kayla immediately apologised. He'd muttered a "sorry, guys" right back, and asked sheepishly if he could rant to the both of us. 

After a steaming mug of earl grey tea and two blueberry pop tarts, he recounted the arrogance and ignorance of the athletes, and their obvious reluctance to engage with anyone outside of their nepotistic bubble of wealth and white privilege. 

"I don't know if it's because I'm Black or some shit, but like all of their pasty white asses couldn't even be bothered to hold eye contact with me. I don't wanna make it about race, you know, but it's kinda pretty fucking hard to ignore when you're the only black guy there. Like no kidding, I don't think I have seen a black guy in those circles. Tanned, snobby Italian bitches who roll their eyes at you don't count as coloured," he harangued, waving his hands around for emphasis.