The Skinny on Fat
Here is what I’ve discovered after one day of being a “blogger” (my new, mid-life identity). First, blogging is way more fun than transcribing interview tapes for my research project. This may be obvious to most of you, but I am thrilled to find this diversion. Second, I can ramble on, and no one interrupts. Third, friends and family email me and declare their loyalty to my blog. Well, not exactly, but they do express a willingness to read it once in a while. Surely you people have better things to do with your lives?
The more astute among you may have noticed that I switched from using “we” to using “I” in this particular posting. Here is my first confession: Marty is innocent. He had nothing to do with this. In fact, he is in Utah for the week and when I told him this morning that I started “our blog,” he said, quite characteristically, “What’s a blog?” He is, however, very enthusiastic about it, whatever “it” is.
My topic for today is fat. Now if I was really hip, I would be using the word fat/phat to mean something exceptional, pleasing or desirable. (I had to look that up on a slang web site, because, to tell you the truth, I know I am so uncool that I could screw up and reveal my slang incompetence.) Unfortunately for you, I am using fat in the traditional, uncool meaning of having much flesh. Although it is not a pretty topic to discuss, we need to face the dark side. As we embark on our year in the land of Roquefort cheese, croissants and petit fours, there is a great risk of adding flesh to the list of items we may accumulate.
I pride myself on being prepared for natural disasters of all sorts. I bought a hand-crank radio, so I am ready when the next Hurricane Katrina hits New Hampshire. I keep emergency food supplies. I even have a camp stove. So in the spirit of natural disaster preparedness, I bought a copy of French Women Don’t Get Fat by Mireille Guiliano.
I would like to tell you that I learned a fabulous secret that will keep us all safe in the face of heavy cream sauces. I was hoping it was the air in France or perhaps the combination of cheeses, creams and pastries, by some amazing chemical reaction, eliminated calories. Maybe those cute little French dresses massaged away excess flesh. I was ready to benefit from the wisdom of French women.
The truth, however, is ugly. To save you the cost of the book, I will summarize it here:
EAT LESS
eat yogurt
EAT LESS
eat fruit
EAT LESS
drink water
EAT LESS
walk
EAT LESS
I don’t think I need to continue. You get the idea, and it’s not a pretty one. We enter the country of temptation, and this is the best advice they can offer?
The more astute among you may have noticed that I switched from using “we” to using “I” in this particular posting. Here is my first confession: Marty is innocent. He had nothing to do with this. In fact, he is in Utah for the week and when I told him this morning that I started “our blog,” he said, quite characteristically, “What’s a blog?” He is, however, very enthusiastic about it, whatever “it” is.
My topic for today is fat. Now if I was really hip, I would be using the word fat/phat to mean something exceptional, pleasing or desirable. (I had to look that up on a slang web site, because, to tell you the truth, I know I am so uncool that I could screw up and reveal my slang incompetence.) Unfortunately for you, I am using fat in the traditional, uncool meaning of having much flesh. Although it is not a pretty topic to discuss, we need to face the dark side. As we embark on our year in the land of Roquefort cheese, croissants and petit fours, there is a great risk of adding flesh to the list of items we may accumulate.
I pride myself on being prepared for natural disasters of all sorts. I bought a hand-crank radio, so I am ready when the next Hurricane Katrina hits New Hampshire. I keep emergency food supplies. I even have a camp stove. So in the spirit of natural disaster preparedness, I bought a copy of French Women Don’t Get Fat by Mireille Guiliano.
I would like to tell you that I learned a fabulous secret that will keep us all safe in the face of heavy cream sauces. I was hoping it was the air in France or perhaps the combination of cheeses, creams and pastries, by some amazing chemical reaction, eliminated calories. Maybe those cute little French dresses massaged away excess flesh. I was ready to benefit from the wisdom of French women.
The truth, however, is ugly. To save you the cost of the book, I will summarize it here:
EAT LESS
eat yogurt
EAT LESS
eat fruit
EAT LESS
drink water
EAT LESS
walk
EAT LESS
I don’t think I need to continue. You get the idea, and it’s not a pretty one. We enter the country of temptation, and this is the best advice they can offer?
posted by Nancy at 2:33 PM
1 Comments:
I'm enjoying your blog. A comment on French food: one of the best things about eating out in France (and maybe eating in, too) is that a meal can be quite lengthy but very relaxed. And even though the food is heavily laden with cream, butter, cheese, and other fats which I shall not get into here, portions are considerably smaller than they are in the States. It's the quality over quantity philosophy. So don't fret, ma soeur. You'll still be able to wear those cute, tres chic French dresses.
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