When freshman year begins and mom suddenly isn’t packing lunch anymore, Boston House of Pizza, Cappy’s I, University House of Pizza, Little Steve’s, Cappy’s II and any of the other myriad of pizza places within blocks of Northeastern may seem like the easiest (and most delicious) shoulder to cry on. Needless to say, the Freshmen 15 can hit certain people pretty hard. Some freshmen may stay the same or even lose weight during their first semester, which only averages out to mean that certain frosh gain well beyond 15 pounds.
Eventually the summer comes and goes and sophomore year rolls around. Debt-laden parents may decide it’s time to cut the cord and stop funding their students’ beer runs and pizza binges, and suddenly Ramen noodles seem like your new best friend. There are always meal plans, but at this point in college, stomaching the weapon of digestion destruction, known as Stetson East, seems nearly impossible, at least on a daily basis. Here enters the only Freshmen 15 antidote besides actually exercising ‘- the Sophomore 15, or losing 15 pounds from being too broke and sick of the dining hall to eat anything of nutritional value.
Slightly less hefty and no worse for the wear, it rolls around to be spring semester (Summer II for some of us), and it’s co-op time. You’re (hopefully) making some money, enjoying the experience of not having classes, and best of all, there’s no stress about homework or term papers looming overhead. But wait! There’s still another bump in the college weight rollercoaster to go:’ a little thing I like to call the Co-op 10.
Now, I love my co-op. Although working at a newspaper in these times might not exactly be as gleeful as other co-op jobs, it’s still fun, rewarding and, best of all, paid. Co-op has definitely been a learning experience for me, and along the course of these past three months I’ve come to realize many things about adults:’ mostly that it is constant eating, not whistling, that they want to do while they work. I think this is especially true for journalists, who in my workplace have proven to hear a rumor of chocolate from the other side of the huge Boston Globe building and pursue the scent like a compelling story until they’ve tracked it down and dominated it. And since I open the (generous) food editor’s mail, which includes nearly every chocolate egg and salty chip about to be released on the market, I’m witness to the prospective snacks first hand. It’s dangerous.
It’s not just my job, either. A handful of other co-ops I know have told me there’s often pizza delivered to their workplace to treat employees and serve as a morale booster. I did a quick survey of Globe co-ops (me and the other co-op in my section), and between the two of us we go out to eat with friends roughly twice more often than we did in our broke, pre-employment days. It’s so tempting to live in the city and suddenly have the means to treat yourself, not to mention going out to dinner is a great way to keep up with friends you fall out of touch with while working 40 hours a week. But it adds up. Besides taking a toll on your wallet, constantly going out to eat at night and binging on the ever-present food stream in the workplace can also take a toll on your waistline. When the Co-op 10 hits, it’s quick and unforgiving.
But as quickly as it arrived, I know co-op will come to an end; a blur of long hours and Upper Crust pizza. Bank accounts will dwindle, and the dining out will follow close behind. For many of us, the Co-op 10 will stick around as a lasting memory of the brief life of luxury we lived. That is, until our old buddy Ramen comes knocking.

‘- Rachel Zarrell is a sophomore journalism major and
member of The News staff.