(Oh and the brief was to write 400 words on your first day at uni)
It's midnight in Oxford. Two women walk into a club, they head for the bar. The tacky floor vibrates underfoot and the air is pumped with pheromones and cheap spirits, undercut with claggy base notes of fluro paint goo.
The second woman is tall, with what looks like dip-dyed blond hair. She orders a double vodka cranberry. The first, fair-haired and unappealingly, appallingly slender, orders… Nothing.
Because when you're anorexic you don't drink alcohol.
In fact, this first woman hasn't made it to the club at all, but stays in and sleeps. Or at least she tries to, dosed up on old-school drowsy cough syrup. Terrified that each hour of wakefulness will lead to mythical next-day carbohydrate cravings and a worsening of the fluey bug that has torn at her throat, aching legs and foggy brain all summer long.
These two "freshers" are more similar than you might think. I should know: I am both of them. I had two first days at university: one in 2011, another exactly a year later.
In October 2011 I was worn out mentally and physically with anorexia. Thing is, nobody turns down Oxford, right? So off I went.
And back I came. I rested, had counselling, and waitressed my year away until fresher's week came around again.
Despite living in a haze of benylin-ed up anxiety, I remember my first attempt at starting university more clearly than round #2. I can recall how the older students joked about facebook stalking us to find out if we were going to fit the hockey stick wielding, Jägerbomb downing mould. I suspected that the photos from my recent inter-railing trip (that in reality had burnt up the last of my resources) might earn me a place in this superficial elite. But inside I knew I was barely able to open a book, let alone pick up a drink and party like I'd been living in anything other than purgatory for the last few months.
My second first day is also a blur, but one induced by pleasant amounts of alcohol and frantically cadging some forgotten essentials off my fellow freshers. Nothing says instant friendship like sharing a razor.
For me, taking a year out was the right decision. On our first day of university we should feel like there's nowhere else we'd rather be, nothing else we'd rather be doing.
After all, we're paying for it.
@JanetEastham
xx
