When we first decided to live in France, I knew that staying away from the cheese and bread would be hard. I knew that control would be difficult and that I had an immense struggle on my hands.
So I didn't struggle, stay away or control myself. I ate every piece of bread and sampled every chunk of cheese that was placed in my path. I even sought the cheese and bread out when it wasn't readily available. For example, while in Italy at an open market, I waited in line to sample the Parmesan, even though I had no intention of buying. I sampled several tables, in fact. Every table, to be honest.
I tried to rationalize, another sign of my addiction. "I will walk to the bakery and get the bread and walk back" as if that was enough exercise to justify the consumption of the entire loaf!
Do you know how delightful a slice of goat cheese spread on a piece of warm sesame seed baguette is? What about adding an inch of butter between the cheese and the bread? How about topping it off with fig preserves? Well, let me just say, I'm drooling as I type.
Well, the gluttony has caught up with me and I sit before you, a woman condemned. My jeans are tight, my coat won't button and a woman I know recently remarked on how much weight I've gained since moving to France.
So now, because of my lack of self-control, I am cut off completely from the cheese and bread. I sit at the dinner table, while the rest family enjoys the warm bread and plate of cheese..and I drink my water. Like a prisoner in my own home, I prepare the bread and cheese, watch others eat it and then clean up after them. Will I start fantasizing about what I can no longer have? No doubt. Maybe I will be able to enjoy the cheese in my dreams. It is my own fault. I said yes yes yes and now its a world of no.
So I didn't struggle, stay away or control myself. I ate every piece of bread and sampled every chunk of cheese that was placed in my path. I even sought the cheese and bread out when it wasn't readily available. For example, while in Italy at an open market, I waited in line to sample the Parmesan, even though I had no intention of buying. I sampled several tables, in fact. Every table, to be honest.
I tried to rationalize, another sign of my addiction. "I will walk to the bakery and get the bread and walk back" as if that was enough exercise to justify the consumption of the entire loaf!
Do you know how delightful a slice of goat cheese spread on a piece of warm sesame seed baguette is? What about adding an inch of butter between the cheese and the bread? How about topping it off with fig preserves? Well, let me just say, I'm drooling as I type.
Well, the gluttony has caught up with me and I sit before you, a woman condemned. My jeans are tight, my coat won't button and a woman I know recently remarked on how much weight I've gained since moving to France.
So now, because of my lack of self-control, I am cut off completely from the cheese and bread. I sit at the dinner table, while the rest family enjoys the warm bread and plate of cheese..and I drink my water. Like a prisoner in my own home, I prepare the bread and cheese, watch others eat it and then clean up after them. Will I start fantasizing about what I can no longer have? No doubt. Maybe I will be able to enjoy the cheese in my dreams. It is my own fault. I said yes yes yes and now its a world of no.
