Before I forget I want to say two things:
1. In all my years of blogging, I have never enjoyed reading comments from this blog more than I did over the past week or so while reading the responses from the last post. You guys---are hilarious.
2. I know I posted my e-mail address last year, but please don’t be offended at my tardy replies. I’m busy doing stuff like watching TV and eating candies.
Which not so coincidentally brings us to this post’s topic: I’m fat.
I have only passive aggressively whinged about my weight issues on this blog because let’s face it---who doesn’t want to lose a few pounds? Nothing earth shattering or clever about that. I originally thought about making a whole separate blog about me and my weight issues, but then again, having a an entire blog devoted to discussing my fat ass could render me suicidal so I nixed that idea almost immediately. Instead I’ll just talk about it here.
Now I haven’t been a size 6 since I was 19 years old, and I don’t ever plan on being one again, but let me put my weight concerns into perspective for you. Since moving to France I have consistently gained 10 lbs for each year I’ve been here. As of last month I’ve been here 5 years. Do the math. 10 lbs x 5 years = Fat Ass. So let me just give out a free piece of advice to anyone reading this blog who might be considering moving to France: If you are a carb-addict American with a sluggish metabolism, who wants to lose weight, and quit smoking, perhaps France is not the country you should move to. Duh?
Anyway, I have no one to blame for this but myself of course and I do take full responsibility. I love to eat. Always have. I’m a foodie. I plan entire vacations around restaurants I want to eat at. Having a few extra pounds kinda comes with the territory. But over the last year it’s become a bit of a nuisance. You see. French people are small. Very very small. They are small people , with small little bird-like frames. I am not French. I am not small, nor do I have a small bird-like frame, unless you’re counting those huge carnivorous dinosaur birds that are in the movie 'Jurassic Park'. This makes buying clothes in France a real pain in my double-wide ass. I graduated years ago from regular clothing stores to the “specialty” stores where the French sizes range from 44-56. Doesn’t that just sound wrong?
I don’t complain a lot about my weight on this blog much, but in reality I do quite a bit of whinging and making fun of myself. All in good fun of course. I have a healthy self-esteem. I have mad love for all the junk in my trunk. I just wish I could fit my junk into at least a 46 so I could shop at the normal stores. Anyway, years of hearing me complain about my weight while two-fisting cupcakes must have finally pushed FrenchBoy over the edge because a year or so ago, after listening to me complain about having nothing nice to wear for the millionth time, he just turned to me and said “Look, if you ever manage to lose those 50 lbs, I’ll give you five thousand euros. And then you can go out and buy all new clothes.”
I knew he said it as a joke to get me to shut up, but I held him to it. And he agreed to honor his off the cuff-remark. Yeah, you read that correctly. If I lose 50 lbs. My Frog is going to give me 5 frickin euro Gs.
But before you get all excited, please remember that he originally said that back in 2007 I think. This is 2009 and not only did I not lose the 50 lbs, I added 10 to the amount I really needed to lose.
And here I am 2 years later, still fat in France.
So, no muffins for me. *shrugs*
"No muffins for you." courtest of the super cool Natalie Dee.