Have you ever seen a fat Chinese?

Think about it, have you ever seen a fat Chinese? And I'm not talking about Chinese babies, I mean one that lives like people in China do? I suddenly accured to me the other week and since then I have been trying to figure out what it is that make them non-fat.

You might say it's the food itself. That would make it very easy, simply eat Chinese take-out every day? (YUM!) But rumours have it that they don't have chocolate, icecream or dairy (correct me if I'm wrong, because that's just sad), but instead only eat soup, vegetables and chicken. I guess that could be true. You see, I have had a lot of Chinese colleagues and being invited home for dinner once, I learned the fried stuff they serve in restaurants, is not 'real' Chinese food. We were instead presented to a big table covered with little bowls filled with vegetables, roots, meats, mushrooms and fruit. In the middle of the table was a hotplate with a big pot of boiling water and exotic spices. You could then choose whatever looked the best and put it in the pot to boil. It was amazing!

Must warn, original Chinese food does not necessary equal delicious - I also went to a restaurant in China town called Poo Dong. The soup I had resembled the name of the restaurant, and the 'chicken' was nothing but skin and fat (not even quite sure it was from a chicken) no need to say I was dissapointed.

Others may say it's genetic - but adoptees or individuals living a western food style is often rather chubby like the rest of us. (Except for the English, I don't get it!)

Anyway, I even had one suggest that it's all the gymnastik they perform each morning in the public squares with someone blurring out instructions from a speaker. If that's you, please start reading papers. Even though older people should be seen around the parks performing some sort of kung-fu for retired. Pretty cool.

No, I think I know why. Chop sticks! And before you discharge it please consider this. Eating with chop sticks takes a long time, even for the most rutined chop stick champion out there, it still takes longer than eating with a fork or spoon. If you eat slower you'll know exactly when you full and not 10 minutes later when you are stuffed. And have you ever tried to eat a spring roll with chop sticks? It takes for ever just to figure out how.

Ok, that is a pretty weak theory. But I'm still eating my dinner with chop sticks tonight. Kung Pao Chicken anyone?

I love a girl who can eat...

Last Monday a colleague of mine, let’s call him Jim, was describing his weekend to me. He thoroughly covered the highlights of the soccer game (I actually watched it myself but I decided not to burst his manly bubble), his new cool sneakers and his date Saturday night. After describing how the wonder looked (the girl) – tiny waist, longs slender legs, blond – he exclaimed “…and she ate almost as much as I did! I love a girl who orders a big steak with lots of sauce instead of a skimpy salad.” EERHHH, now wait just a minute, did he say tiny waist AND steak dipped in béarnaise? As Jim received slaps on the back from the nearest cavemen, the woman next to me looked as puzzled as myself but shook it off and continued with the news paper. As you might know by now – I talk before I think and even if I think first, I rarely find much reason to shut up – so I said what every female within earshot was thinking. “…and how long was she in the bathroom after you had dinner?” Well I never said I was elegant.

Now it was Jim and the buddies turn to look puzzled. If you feel the same way let me explain to you as I did to them. If a girl has long slender legs and a tiny waist she must have a certain diet. Either she eats healthy and is an excessive runner, or she doesn’t eat. If she on the other hand inhales a big steak with chips and cream sauce on the side and suggest dessert afterwards you have a binger. Which means she loves food so much that she sees it twice – second time in reverse.

Jim huffed and said “no no, she said she has a high metabolism,” Yeah…

Let’s set that one straight once and for all. High metabolism is a syndrome and is very rare. The people who suffer from this disease really struggles to maintain a healthy weight not to lose all the calcium, iron, vitamins and other essential things for the body to function that flushes through their system almost untouched. It is so to say an ‘error’ in the body that makes it unable to hold on to the nourishment it is fed with. Considering the rareness of this illness, the chance of you dating such a person more than twice in your lifetime, is very little. On the other hand, the chance of you going on a date with a person with an eating disorder is one to two.

The numbers are frightening high when it comes to eating disorders (ED) and includes everything from anorexia (the small-salad-and-a-pickle-girl), bulimia (king-size-in-reverse-girl), binge eating disorder (king-size-major-guilt-girl). The latest will often be overweight, while the first two will look ‘normal’ or under-weight. Did you know that the ED has the highest mortality rate of all mental illnesses? Including diseases as schizophrenia and depression?

This is why I reacted rather strong to Jim’s indifference. As he said, I ‘killed’ the fun for him, but it is really important to acknowledge that this exists. Now Jim can be a jerk, but I think he hadn’t realized the seriousness of his date leaving for the bathroom after dinner. Well, maybe it really was nothing. Maybe she always eats a big dinner on the first date, knowing she will get a guys attention this way, or maybe she actually has a high metabolism. But the next time you notice your date, a friend, a sibling, a colleague or anyone you are close to constantly going to the bathroom right after dinner, having cut their nails very short without reason, yellowing teeth or vomit in the sink after their visit to the bathroom… please be alarmed.

I cringe inside every time I hear a guy say “I love a girl who can eat” and sees how skinny his girlfriend is. A light bulb should go on in his head when he two minutes later makes fun of the fat woman in the street, commenting “she should eat less”. I am mystified of how this is still going on, because it really isn’t that hard to figure out.

Paparazzi!

One week has gone in best paparazzi style, hiding around corners, hoping to snatch the well kept secrets of the skinny-French-girl. How does she get so skinny that the highest point on her body while laying down is her hipbones? How does she manage her diet so that her thighs never touch? And how does she get upper arms almost as tight and skinny as her wrists? Having only seen those women assembled is such large groups when flipping through Vogue and knowing those pictures are photo-shopped too perfection, there logically must be a secret.

Day 1: Having chosen two skinny-French-girls in my office get’s more difficult as we move office. They now sit in the other end of the room, in the corner even. Luckily the table right next to them is the official cake/coffee table, so I have an excuse to drop by now and then. But as I don’t drink coffee, going to the cake-desk 3 times a day is not doing any good to my behind, so a discreet stretch now and then off my chair gives me a small peek of their status. Hopefully my new neighbor likes my deodorant.

Result: Has not observed anything but coffee going in.

Day 2: Having respect for them not taking a single piece of cake – I think I know where this is going – but maybe they just don’t sugar on Mondays? Ate lunch close to them today: Noted intake of salad, the obligatory yoghurt and a piece of fruit. Plus more coffee and even more cigarettes.

Result: Can someone actually live on coffee??

Day 3: Colleague brought sweets to celebrate becoming a dad, lots of kisses but not a single piece of chocolate gets near the lipstick. Lunch is salad, fruit, the tiniest yoghurts I’ve ever seen and more coffee with cigarettes.

Result: They must be non-human. Sitting an arm’s reach from a pile of kitkat’s, twix’s and other goodies, without as much as recognition of their presence is amazing will-power.

Day 4: Went out with a friend from work to celebrate pay day, this always calls for ice cream at the little café by the park. Spotted my experiments at a table nearby – having espressos and cigarettes. For a moment I considered to curl in shame when the huge banana split landed on the table between my friend and me. We looked at each other and I could see she was thinking the same thing, but then a smile spread across her face –‘you know what?’ she said ‘we only live once, and when those skinnies become 50 they are going to be nothing but bones and loose skin with lung cancer.’ So we dug in – and it was good!

As we were fighting over the chocolate pieces, the skinny-French-girls started stealing glances towards us. They were jealous! Obviously they didn’t want us or each other to notice, but the conversation dipped to nothing as the attention shifted to our calorie feast. I could see the cravings in their eyes for the first time in a week and made me realize that they have cravings just as everyone else, they just choose not pursue it, but instead drown it in coffee and nicotine.

Result: They are human and they might be unbelievable skinny, but are they really happy? I’m sure having a body like Gemma Ward gives you a load of recognition and you don’t have to worry about your belly fat bringing too much attention when wearing a thin t-shirt, but living on coffee and cigarettes to get there is not my definition of enjoying it proper.

BUT until I convince fashion, Vogue, my mirror, general opinion but most of all me that skinny equals unhappy, I will accept this, until then the fight against the 5 pounds will continue. But without the caffeine and ciggies, there are limits to this craziness.

Cookies n' Cream and Celebration

Going to the supermarket is a fight of willpower. Will I pass by the forbidden isles just to prove to myself that I can make it, or should I completely avoid them?
I usually end up testing my willpower past rows of candy, chocolate, cakes and cookies. Surprisingly I more than often pass the test as French sweets aren’t my style, but today I spotted the queen of all sinners: Oreos! Normally not common in European supermarkets, it catches me off guard every time I come across it. As I punish myself by calculating how many extra inches that now will be added to my waist, I am not concentrating where my feet are going and as I look up, I look straight in the eyes of a familiar cow, the king of all sinners. My sugar cravings are taking over my body as I read the label of a yet undiscovered flavour of Ben&Jerry’s.

A feel-good-quest for fresh vegetables and fruit has turned into a calorie orgies and I am defeated once again. Worse yet, I now know where to find those delicious fat bubbles that the skinny French girl will have willpower enough to withstand. It is now up to me to get rid of the temptation, piece by piece or avoid this supermarket altogether.

...

I have decided to avoid the supermarket, it’s too expensive anyway - walking three kilometres to the next one is even good exercise, so good that I decide skipping the planned workout of the day. It does replace it, or so I have hereby decided.

All this exercise of dragging a week’s worth of groceries several kilometres and up four floors has made me full of energy, so I decide to take up baking for the evening (yeah, I’m that cool...) I haven’t bought a single unhealthy thing this time, so I celebrate by baking a crisp loaf of cornbread. I save most for lunch tomorrow, but devour a big piece with salty pesto.

As I lie in bed that night I congratulate myself for a full healthy day, when remembering that cornbread – it’s not as healthy as it sounds. Now how did that sneak into my plans unnoticed? Seems like I always celebrate being good, by eating something not good. I skipped workout for a couple of kilometres with a single shopping bag and celebrated it with a bucket load of carbohydrates and oily topping.

I guess my sugar craving brain is cleverer that I thought... sneaky brain, sneaky