There has been a lot of hype lately surrounding Mireille Guiliano's book French Women Don't Get Fat: the Secret of Eating for Pleasure. It's about a French teenager who came to America as a student and went home fat. Her doctor saved her figure by getting her to eat only small portions of the best of everything. I was in Target the other day strolling through their Oprah's Book Club-heavy reading selection and here was Guiliano's book, on sale for the low price of $15. I was tempted to purchase it. Now, this is incredibly silly, as I know loads about nutrition, eating in moderation, eating for pleasure, etc., and there is probably nothing in this book that could inform me. I don't want to sound arrogant or anything, but really, it's no secret to me that if I just limit myself to one ounce of cheese (the best triple cream), or one decadent chocolate (the very best, of course), and eat loads of yogurt, fruit, vegetables and whole grains I could maintain my girlish figure.
Sadly, 10 years of restaurant work have giving me a camel in the dessert water-retaining hump sort of attitude towards eating: "Let's see, it's 4 o'clock now, and it's a Saturday night. I have to work and think efficiently, smile at people and act nice until at least midnight, and then I have to pick Husband up from work and be nice to all of his employees lest they think I'm evil, then I have to have at least 2-3 beers, and I have to do all of this without fainting. Hm. I guess I will eat this day-old baked pasta covered in cheese, even if I'm not quite hungry yet. I have to think about how I'll be feeling when I am polishing silverware in 7 hours."
See? I just can't trot off to the gourmet market on my every whim to pick up the choicest Saint Andre and a baguette. I certainly don't have the luxury to lie about eating tiny nibbles of exquisiteness while quaffing French champagne.
Which brings me right around. Fortunately, I happened to open the book to do a little pre-purchasing skimming and landed right on the page where Guiliano is discussing her love of Veuve Clicquot. As it turns out, I don't need any advice from a French woman who thinks Veuve Clicquot is the best champagne in France (confidential to Cork Dork Friends: I'm not kidding. Click on the Amazon link to see a picture of her standing in front of loads of yellow label). Nope, I sure don't need that advice.
I did, however, almost get sucked into purchasing a parody, French Cats Don't Get Fat, while standing in line at Barnes & Noble half an hour later.