The Return of the Prodigal

Before coming to South Africa in May, I had sent the preceding 6 months or so sticking to the principles of French Women Don’t Get Fat. I have spoken about it on this blog and discussed this simple plan for enjoying life to the fullest and not depriving oneself while simultaneously staying healthy.

If interested in learning more about the French Women Don’t Get Fat lifestyle, visit the author’s website at frenchwomendontgetfat.com.

Anywho, upon arriving to South Africa, I began taking advantage of the leisure time and readily available food, chowing down on anything gluten-free in sight. Ironically, the culmination of my bad habits (I think) happened in France on our honeymoon (go figure), where I found myself eating massive amounts of bread and Nutella by the ladleful (not that I didn't LOVE it.).

Rather recently (as in, the last three days), I have told myself that enough is enough. It’s not that I think I am fat by any means. In fact, I think I look better than I did when I was a little too thin. But, now that I am at this happy body place, I want to keep it this way. So I’ve finally come back home. Back to the place where I know I feel good, look good, and live good… well. Mirielle’s tips and principles are so easy to follow. It’s definitely not a diet, but rather a way of living and eating so as to extract every bit of pleasure and enjoyment from every experience in life. Sounds perfect, right? Yeah, I think so too.

So, over the past few days, my eating habits have been back on track. No more sitting in the kitchen pouring bowl after bowl of granola with milk. No more eating cold food straight out of the refrigerator because I feel like it. I’m back to respecting meal time again and only eat while sitting and savoring every morsel. And I love it. On top of it all, I feel awesome at the end of the day knowing that I ate exactly what I wanted, drank what I wanted, and still feel guiltless. Ahhh, sweet freedom.

Here are some of my Franco-style eats from yesterday and today.

Sardines on rice cake with a salad

My new love= persimmon/sharon fruit. This amazing little fruit looks like a yellow tomato and tastes like jelly in a firm little casing. Uh-May-Zing.

Persimmon with carrot for a mid-afternoon snack

Breakfast of champions: black coffee with cinnamon and oats with smashed butternut squash (basically pumpkin pie oatmeal).

Salad beast: spring greens, tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, 1/2 cooked potato, boiled egg, peas, and yogurt herb dressing. Yowsa.

Salad beast was followed by brie cheese, a pear, and a glass of red wine. Don't mind if I do.

Another delicious breakfast made up of yogurt with oats, a mineola (like an orange... sort of), and black coffee with cinnamon

Tomato basil soup, toast, and a slice of cheese

Greek burger (feta cheese, cumin, coriander, rosemary, thyme, and pepper) topped with caramelized onions, potato wedges, salad, and a glass of wine. I could not eat the second half of that burger due to the massive amount of grease. I could, however, eat about 10 more of those wedges. This delicious meal was followed up by some dark chocolate.

Frenchwomendontgetfat.com is a great resource for recipes, wine and cheese tips, lifestyle guidelines, clothing suggestions, and a plethora of other things. When I am feeling uninspired, browsing its pages gets me feeling motivated again. Besides, who doesn’t want to eat what they want, drink wine every day, and not over-exercise? Not me, and probably not you. The bottom line is, make your body happy and your mind happier.

Why did I ever stray?

If I Were French

Last week, I did a post about my current obsessions. One thing I forgot to include in that list was anything pertaining to or related to France or French-ness. In case you haven't already figured it out, I want to go to France, live in France, and (secretly) be French. Today, I wondered to myself, “How would my life be different if I were a Frenchie?” Well, since you asked…

If I were French…

This bagel and green smoothie would be a croissant and fresh squeezed orange juice.

If I were French, I wouldn't have gotten a $131 speeding ticket, because I would be walking, biking, or taking public transportation to school or work.

If I were French, I would have eaten lunch in an outdoor cafe looking out at the bustling streets of Paris instead of sitting in the school coffee shop.

Ham, turkey, and pepperjack cheese sandwich with a Gala apple.

If I were in France, I wouldn't be exposed to people stuffing their faces with nasty, unrecognizable cafeteria foods.

If I were French, I would have sucked down a few espressos to give me insane energy for my classes instead of watered down tea.

If I were French (or in France), there wouldn't be someone sitting with their legs (not just feet) on top of their desk throughout an entire class (this is not a joke).

If I were French...

Bread and wine would have accompanied this meal. And I would have taken longer than 4.58 seconds to eat it.

If I were French, I would probably enjoy laughing at the English even more than I already do.

Bottom line: J'adore France and all things French (except the politics, but we won't go there...).

Pretending to Be French

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Ooh, la la! Bonjour tout le monde!

I planned on discussing this in a later post, but since I read the article called, “The No Diet Diet”, I have really been dwelling on the earth-shattering ideas that were revealed to me. It’s not like I wasn’t aware of these concepts, but it was just really motivational to see someone being a part of the same battle that I face every day (I say that like its some momentous, life or death thing). When I am interested in something, I always want to know more about it, and in perusing the internet, I stumbled across the book, French Women Don’t Get Fat. The author is a French woman, which is fitting, and in the book, she shares the secrets of how French women manage to stay thin while living in the food capital of the world, or anywhere else for that matter. Cursed French!

Obviously one of the most important things for French women is CONTROL- portion control and self-control. They indulge and eat whatever they want, but all in moderation. The French eat with all 5 senses- sight, taste, smell, sound, feel (in case you’ve had a momentary brain fart and can’t remember all of them)- and savor not just the taste, but the entire experience.

There were tons of other significant principles of the book, but the one that stuck out to me the most was passion. Having a passion for food. I always thought I had this passion. I love food. I love cooking, thinking about, looking at, smelling, tasting, and discovering food. But encumbering my complete, unfettered zeal for cuisine, is that guilty conscience asking, “What is eating this food going to do your figure?”  The day after indulging in not-as-healthy-as-I-usually-eat foods is always followed with a strict menu and more strenuous workout than usual to make up for the extra calories I might have packed on.

I want to be able to enjoy both sides of the process- the cooking, preparation, and creation, as well as the enjoyment and pleasure that comes along with eating it- without worrying about how it is negatively affecting my body (within reason obviously). So Wednesday, I wanted to experiment. I decided to drop the calorie counting and make believe that I was French.

Wednesday I was craving a sweet breakfast and a variety of different things. I wanted some sort of bread item, fruit, and a dairy product, and my mind suddenly jumped to calories. That’s going to be high. But, I pushed those diet thoughts away and decided to eat all three things. 

I find that I always feel the need to have two of something, like slices of bread or both sides of a bagel, for instance. But today, I fought those feelings and only took half a cinnamon apple bun. I paired it with cottage cheese and an apple. To add just a little naughty to my meal, I put some honey on top of the bun. No measuring.

I sat down at the table instead of in front of the TV or my computer with my breakfast and a cup of coffee. I wanted to savor all of the foods that were before me. I ate slowly and really tasted everything. Low and behold, I could not finish my breakfast (I was tempted to take my temperature)!

Fueled up for the day, I went to Journey’s End to spend time with my furry friends. After being sufficiently covered in dog hair, I came home to eat lunch. In keeping with the French feeling of the day, I made Tarragon Chicken Salad.   

Tarragon gives anything a French twist. I had a little scoop of the salad with a pickle. I leisurely ate away, not concerned with the fact that there was mayo and sour cream in this dish. It was delicious.

Later, my mom and I went window shopping. This seems to be our go-to for solving boredom. I came across some interesting apparel.

Hat/Scarf. Functional, practical, AWESOME

Feathered hat.

I'm sure the French would be appalled.

For dinner, I made another ethnic meal. I had a glass of wine to add to my ever-so-cultured day.

Cabernet Merlot blend. Quinoa with tomatoes, cilantro, and southwest seasoning. Butternut Squash.

Eating dinner without worrying about the calorie count or if I was eating too much, and paying attention to eat luscious mouthful was such a delightful experience. Exactly what I was going for. Now, I am not saying that health should go out the window. On the contrary, I am saying that being healthy should be pleasurable but balanced. Who wants to live their life thinking that every bite is a mouthful of calories? I don’t. I want to stop looking at food simply as nourishment, and start thinking about the experience. Food should be shared, enjoyed, and tasted, smelled, pondered, created, relished, appreciated, and savored. We should always try to take pleasure in the food we are eating. Sometimes, you just have to pretend to be French.