I’m On My Eighth Buttered Toast of The Day: When Your Trapped In Lamont Health Center

By ADELLE PITTS ‘27 and MEGHAN TATE ZEE ‘27

Wakey wakey, Exonians! Gossip Girl here. Word on the street is that a mysterious illness has swept across campus, trapping the Blair Waldorfs of the world inside the Lamont Health Center (or should I say, the Lamonster Health Center). Don’t believe me? Keep reading — I’ll change your mind. Three words, 12 letters: Better mask up! 

First up on our list of grievances? The treacherous hours you must endure while waiting for the help you so desperately need. Swarms of Exonians cram the waiting room — just like on the grimy subways of Brooklyn. Lucky for us, Lonely Boy doesn’t mind the wait. Unlike Brooklyn, though, snot, sweat, and pink-eye don’t belong in our Exeter bubble. Maybe you’ll use the extra time to think about the people you’re grateful for. Or maybe not, and you’ll just keep shopping for the next Harry Winston necklace to casually suggest to your boyfriend. But as the clock ticks by, one thing becomes clear: time spent in the Health Center feels like time standing still. 

Rumor has it, the health center’s out of ibuprofen. No matter the disease — fever, cold, or strep — that little red pill is the cure to practically everything, except a broken heart or a low GPA. Sprained an ankle playing lacrosse? Ibuprofen. Up all night scheming and too tired to get out of bed? Ibuprofen. But now, the medicine cupboards are empty, and Exonians are in a state of frenzy. It seems the real outbreak here isn’t mono — it’s panic. Looks like it’s time to call in Dr. van der Woodsen. 

Once the nurses have confined you to the Health Center, whether it’s just for one class or overnight, they make you put all your belongings — backpack, phone, laptop — to be watched over by a nurse. You are then stuck in a room so small, you might as well be in Brooklyn. No phone, no homework, no life. You can’t check Gossip Girl or scroll for fashion inspo. At least ignoring your dad’s desperate calls doesn’t break tradition. After all, Little J stopped being daddy’s little girl a long time ago. 

At first, Exonians were just physically sick — now, they’re going mental. Aside from your overheating face, your room in the health center is all white. It’s enough to drive anyone mad. Already congested? The stuffy air isn’t doing you any favors. And the thin mattresses? Let’s just say, they’re no match for the Palace Hotel’s. Not even an “I’m Chuck Bass” can get you out of here. Where’s Dorota when you need her?

So, you’re probably wondering: what is this mysterious disease keeping Exonians stuck in that horrific place, anyway? That’s one secret I’ll never tell. Look like an angel, talk like an angel — the Health Center? It’s the devil in disguise. 

You know you love me. 

XOXO, 

Gossip Girl.