Tag Archives: fitness

French Wine, Turkish Kebabs and the descent into FAT Hell


It’s official. I’m a fattie. I’ve joined the wide lane. Crossed over into the universe where eating a pack of chips is a crime. Where having a sandwich is :

Turns out, If you google fat pig, Michelle Obama's picture comes up. How now?


Yeah, I said it, I feel fat.

I’ve never really been the skinny type, except when I was a baby and my doctor had me tested for HIV for ‘failure to thrive’. Turns out that my problem was just that I was just a slow eater with an impatient mother.

Anyway, after the starving children in Sudan episode, I filled out pretty good. Not strictly on the healthy side, but not a quarter pounder with extra cheese either. Let’s call it a little extra cushion.

For a while, everything was fine.

Until France. And this conversation with my friend:

W: Oh Lord, I feel a little heavy…it’s getting hard to walk.

Friend: Yeah, really?

W: been piling on the pounds.

Friend: It’s because you eat a lot of junk. Actually, you are always eating.

W (Saaaay what?): What do you mean?

Friend: Yeah you always eating chips and chocolate.

W: eeerm..right…(because we shared a pack of chips once and a bar of chocolate?)

I feel like this:

yeah..the only thing we are good at is stuffing our faces with junk and wearing inappropriate clothing

I probably look like this:

[Ok, all I could find on google was just lots of pictures of big booties, so I leave it to your imagination.]

That’s when it hit me: In a sea of size sixes and tens, I am officially queen of the fatties. Every bite I take is being watched.

The ‘big is beautiful’ thing doesn’t cut it here. Big is greedy. Big is that bitch who stuffs herself until she can’t move.After all, it is no coincidence that this place is crawling with size sixes and eights. I mean, every one makes fun of the French ‘nouvelle cuisine’, or ‘big plate, three bites and a pretty leaf’ meal plan.

Hence the weird, judgmental conversation about me stuffing my face with chips and junk all day.

And a rambling blog post to bitch about it.

Disclaimer: My self esteem is in no way shattered. My taste buds, however have accepted that they will take a very long walk down the fruit n veg lane. Because I’m not asking for a miracle. I just want to see my toes without breaking into a sweat.

 

Advertisements