The battle of the bulge
A conversation with the very lovely Susan who has a beautiful blog named ‘Our French Oasis’ has me thinking again about the very particular relationship of the French to food. So as I prepare to drive to England tomorrow I give you a reprise of a post I made about 18 months ago that had me battling the bulge. I could do with a re-read myself …..
Here I am back in France this past fortnight and nine days of it have been on a ‘regime’. A diet. A detox actually. And it paid dividends – I’m now a bit more than half a stone lighter and I have lost the inches in the right places. By which I mean when it drops off your face after a certain age you just look older, more saggy and haggard and equally at my age one has a tendency to gaining round the middle. A spare tyre that would not help in the event of a blowout in the little yellow car. So I am a little more en ligne, a little trimmer and all the happier for it. It’s a curious fact that you wear the over-weight on your mind at some level and the niggling anxiety wears you out. So best to out it and…
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