Meeting Dr. Evil

I guess it's unfair to call him Dr. Evil because he truly is a nice doctor and person to boot. In fact I adore him because he really makes me laugh, and he's very good and letting his patients know that he's on their side. However, when you're trying to lose weight, you're at war! Someone or something has got to be the enemy, and it may as well be the doctor because he's holding you accountable for your actions.

My husband found him on the American Consulate's list of English-speaking doctors. He's a nutritionist and a cardiologist - not a bad combination. My husband went with me to the first appointment, one rainy night a couple of weeks ago. When we sat down, he said, "So why are you 'ere?" French people never pronounce the letter "h." I told him why and he says, "You're not fat. You are curvy, and curvy is good on a woman!" Nice touch!

Our consultation went on and then he asked me where I was from? I told him I was an American from Chicago. He then wanted to know where my parents were from so I told him. Next my grandparents, and I told him. Finally, he asked about my great-grand parents. I said "Your guess is as good as mine. Why do you want to know?"

"Because your skin complexion is exactly like my wife's and she's from Martinique," he said. So I laughed and said, "Well, no family from the Caribbean, but hey, one never knows. " Dr. Evil is a real flirt and my husband is a really good sport about it.

All in all Dr. Evil and I get along pretty great. That's not to say that there are no disagreements, but more on that later...

Who's Says There Are No Fat Women in France?

I've always heard this saying, and heck, there's even a best-selling book with the same title, but trust me, French women get fat just like everyone else.

Okay, I admit it. I can no longer hide behind the baby. My youngest daughter was born almost three years ago - just before my family's arrival in France. Therefore, there's no excuse for me to be carrying around still all of this weight. I don't even recognize myself anymore, with the double chin and thickening waistline! I guess I do have an excuse, I if I blame my the weight gain on my lack of will power, and my inability to resist baquettes.

Let's face it, I'm fat! There isn't any nicer way to say it. Working from my home office every day with little exercise and being surrounded by an endless array of gastronomical temptations are part of the problem. Being a mother of two picky eaters and hating to see perfectly good food go to waste is definitely another reason. Sometimes being in a foreign country and feeling totally out-of-control is yet another. But if I am to be honest with myself, the real culprit is good 'ol American Coca-Cola. Yes, I'm addicted to Coca-Cola, and Time magazine even quoted me talking about my dependency in an article last December.

So if I I think about it, the weight gain shouldn't be that much of a surprise, right? Still if you had told me three years ago that I would be almost 50lbs heavier, I would have died laughing! After all, I had already had one daughter and lost the weight. What in the world was wrong with me that I couldn't do it again?

I needed some incentives to lose the weight I guess. One incentive was the the French boutique owner who smirked at me and said, "I'm sorry, Madame, but that dress doesn't come in your size." This of course, was a first for me, a former svelt size 6. Payback for me too, for all of the times when I have made fun of other more full-figured sisters. But I was younger and foolish back then.

Even though my husband says "You're not fat, honey, you're just curvy," I know he's lying. Every man knows that the fat question is off limits. When a man is willing to attempt to answer the question, you know it's time to drop the pounds.

The last incentive I needed was to rent and watch "Super Size Me" on DVD. That's when I realized that I needed an unbiased opinion. I needed some outside help, and that's when I met Dr. Evil!