French women don't get fat... but American men...

Aside from the the never-ending stream of emails soliciting my advice on healing the divide between Post-Enlightenment Western Modernity and Fundamentalist Islam (a word to GW43@potus.gov and Benny16@vatcity.it - fellas, if you're not going to follow my advice, please stop asking for it!), the most common questions I hear involve my body: what shape it's in, how's my waist line, am I still looking as fine as I did the day I boarded Air France 007?

I want you all to breathe a collective sigh of relief -- despite five months in France, I am every bit as buff as the last time you saw me. Same wash-board (gentle cycle) stomach; same big-gun (.22 caliber) arms; still able to crush a walnut (cupcake) between my thighs.

So, you're asking, how have I stayed so fit, despite indulging myself in all the gastronomic delights Central France has to offer?

God only knows.

I have eaten like a pig: c-o-c-h-o-n, pig. I have yet to let a bottle of wine, plate of cheese, or side-board table of desserts pass by me unmolested. I have defended my spot on the couch, fending off all pretenders to my throne. My running shoes dried out from that rainy day back in August, and have not been put in harm's way since.

In short, I have done everything in my power to add 35 lbs. to my already Ruben-esque frame, and yet I can still slip into my trousers each morning without the aide of winches, come-alongs or hydraulic rams.

So what gives? Does my experience lend credence to the recent best-sellers regarding French women's resistance to weight-gain?

Who's to say? Let's review today's ingestions and see what we conclude.

Breakfast: two pain-au-chocolate (i.e. a pastry made from the same dough as a croissant, but containing a modest amount of semi-sweet chocolate) and an espresso.

Morning snack: none

Lunch: huge. I attended a catered luncheon at work and the fare is representative of a typical meal : a cold plate whereupon I found/devoured 1/2 roasted chicken breast, one slice of roasted pork, a slice of a salmon terrine, a thin slice of quiche lorraine, two pickles and a dollop of mayonaise. After the main plate, we passed the cheese (so to speak), and then a basket of fruit. Beverages included bottled water, medium bodied red-wine (two small glasses) and coffee.

Afternoon snack: none

Dinner: also huge. Ceil found a shop which approximates Trader Joe's, and we gorged ourselves on frozen delicacies, reheated in our oven: calamari rings, shimps, sweet and sour chicken and spinach canneloni.

Dessert: half of a chocolate pastry and a glass of red wine.

In short, I ate about 245,000 calories today... and this is typical. So why have I not ballooned?

My guesses:

1) no trans-fats: chips, crackers or bread baked more than 24 hours ago simply do not show up on the table!
2) no between-meal snacks: there are snack machines at work but I've yet to see anyone use them... and I won't be the first.
2) red-wine: sometimes in moderation
3) coffee: espresso is served after every meal... even late dinners.
4) an office on the second floor: can sixteen steps make a difference?
5) no television: sigh. Wonder how my NY Giants are doing?

What lessons will I take home?
1) kill the television: this time, I mean it
2) yes to the bagels, but no to the chips
3) yes to the red wine: what did you expect me to say?
4) find excuses to walk around at work: Store my stapler and paper clips on the third floor and the photo-copier in the basement

Here endeth this week's PSA.

Be well.