Sally Engelhart | The fastest and best four years
As I write my last ever Daily Pennsylvanian article, it dawns on me that I’ve been writing to you as Scientifically Blonde for three whole years.
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As I write my last ever Daily Pennsylvanian article, it dawns on me that I’ve been writing to you as Scientifically Blonde for three whole years.
A lot of you are going to make some pretty bad drinking decisions this Fling. You’re going to get way too drunk, probably make a fool of yourself and then feel really, really hungover.
Imagine if right now, as you read this column, the person next to you collapsed to the ground and lay unconscious — would you know what to do? Better question: If you did know what to do, would you do it?
To a sorry group of students out there, the end of March not only marks the start of 70-degree weather, St. Patrick’s Day and the onset of April showers — it also marks the start of MCAT season.
Q: I’ve really been kicking my ass at the gym since the beginning of the semester. Why aren’t I losing any weight? — Gym Fanatic*
People trying to lose weight often think that body fat is the enemy. But get this: there’s one type of fat — brown fat — that might hold the key to being thin.
When you’re a senior, toeing the line that marks the entrance to the real world, you’re forced to make a lot of big decisions. It seems like every fork you reach in the road has the opportunity to determine how happy you’ll be for the rest of your lives.
My friend Mary’s* “Say No to Drugs” attitude would make any mother proud.
Going home over Thanksgiving break is never always fun. This year, though, I was pretty pumped to spend some time with my bro, who recently moved back into my parents’ house (can you imagine?). But the second I got home I wanted him to stay far, far away.
You know what I really, really hate? Those little calorie postings next to items on fast-food restaurant menus. And it’s not because they make me feel like a fatass every time I want a cookie (400 calories?! Puh-lease!) But really, my problem with calorie postings is that they totally miss the mark when it comes to helping people make healthy eating choices.
This past long weekend, I was back home in Canad-i-a catching up on some Canadian news (yes, we have newspapers too!) and I came across a troubling article about Canadian doctors debating whether or not to ban obese women from receiving fertility treatments.
Rep. Michele Bachmann’s (R-Minn.) comment that the human papillomavirus vaccine causes “mental retardation,” is, well, retarded. (And I’m sorry, I really don’t like using that word, but she started it.)
I’m going to tell you why we’re fat.
It’s basically Spring Fling (woohoo!), which — for many Penn students — means going on a self-indulgent binge of getting wasted at downtowns and continuing the party all day long for on-campus festivities.
We all dream about our futures. Yours might include a white picket fence, an eight-figure bank account or a heavily stamped passport. At the heart of mine is a stethoscope. In my dream future, I am Dr. Sally Bieber Engelhart.
I have no idea why — although it probably had something to do with me being a stubborn, lazy child — but in elementary school I just hated gym class. I would fake obscure illness and injuries, intentionally forget my gym clothes or volunteer for just about any awful task in order to get out of an hour of running around.
Here’s a classic Penn story about a classic Penn overachiever.
The journey to medical school as a Penn undergraduate is not for the weak of heart. The competitive atmosphere can wrack your nerves and run you down, leaving you perpetually stressed and fearing B-minuses like the plague.
When I got to my friend’s New Year’s party around 11 o’clock, I sighed heavily at the disappointing scene. Lame music. Trashy girls. Ugly dudes. But I opened my bottle of wine and, in the New Year’s spirit, started taking healthy swigs. Before I knew it, I was doing tequila shots with my new best friends, and, by the time we were doing the countdown, I found myself looking around and thinking, “Damn! When did all the hot people get here?”
My father’s always on a crazy new diet. Books with titles like Cure for the Middle-Aged Middle and Eating Right for Your Blood Type line the bookcases of our home. But despite his looking in all directions, the answer to weight loss continues to evade him.