Fat 2 Fit Excerpt Seven: Running the Gauntlet—Feasting in France
From the book "From Fat to Fit: Turn Yourself into a Weapon of Mass Reduction" (Hound Press, 2007), by Carole Carson
By: Carole Carson | Source: AARP.org | 2008-11-21
"From Fat To Fit" Book Excerpts: Carole Carson's Weight Loss Journey
- Week 1: Just Undo It!
- Week 2: Starting to Change
- Week 3: Eating to Live, Not Living to Eat
- Week 4: Giving Birth to the New Me
- Week 5: Counting the Cost
- Week 6: Running the Gauntlet—Feasting in France
- Week 7: Why Don't French Women Get Fat?
- Week 8: The Lull Before the Storm
- Week 9: Everything Changes
- Week 10: You Gotta Have Friends
- Week 11: What Does It Take?
- Week 12: The More I Lose, the More of "Me" There Is
- Week 13: Entering the Home Stretch
- Week 14: On the Road Again
- Week 15: Nothing Tastes as Good as Being Thinner Feels
- Week 16: From Shame to Joy
We are confronted with insurmountable opportunities.
—POGO (WALT KELLY)
We flew to Paris and then to Provence for my son's wedding to his delightful French wife. From conversations with him, I knew that her family was making elaborate preparations. Our two weeks would be spent feasting—and, I imagined, in a constant state of self-torture. Among all those beautifully presented foods, wonderful wines, and fabulous desserts, how would I keep my commitment to fitness? Did I even want to? Was this a golden opportunity to escape from my American regimen?
My son's French relatives were surprised to see the "smaller" me. I was already down 20 pounds since we had first met, though by French standards still significantly overweight. I had fun describing the different exercises I was experimenting with, kickboxing being the latest.
Since gyms are uncommon and female kickboxers even rarer, the family members looked at me with puzzlement. Were they not familiar with kickboxing, or did I just announce in my broken French, "Last week I tried pig-hopping?"
Different Place, Same Commitment
I kept my commitment to fitness in France the same way I did at home—one day, one meal, at a time. When eating in the home of my son's French family, I learned not to finish everything on my plate—it only invited a second helping. I thought they pretended not to notice when I played with my food in order to avoid overeating.
Because so many family members were joining us, my husband and I rented a house outside of Uzes in the middle of a vineyard. Each day I walked for an hour. As I hiked, my eyes were treated to endless vineyards dotted with beautiful gray stone houses with brightly painted shutters. Sometimes my walk was inadvertently extended by a half hour or more when I got disoriented in the vineyards. But what a beautiful place in which to be lost!
Next: Carole wonders why French women don't get fat.


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