One Less Skinny Bitch
March 21st 2011 Posted at Uncategorized
14 Comments 
Dear Readers: I’m up to my neck in writing right now, and will have a fresh new chocolate post out in a day or two. In the meantime, here’s one of my favorites brought to you once more.
Even skinny people get fat. This bewildering fact is slowly getting through to me. After years of being so bone thin I had to shop for jeans in the toy department, I knew my chocolate consumption was out of hand when my daughter referred to my new size 10 jeans as “plus size.” It’s true I’ve put on weight eating all this chocolate. But it is also true that according to the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, I am one pound over the “ideal weight” for my height. Yes, that’s right. One pound. And I’m sure that pound is pure muscle.
And a quick googling of my age + “average weight” suggests that I am 25 pounds below what the average American woman my age weighs. True, put me in L.A. or Paris and I’d be hog-tied and shipped off to the nearest fat farm, but send me back to Texas and they’d be force feeding me barbecued pork and deep-fried whoopee pies with extra butter cream frosting.
Flickr photo by Celie
This whole weight thing has me very confused. On the one hand, I really don’t care that eating has caused me to gain weight because I love to eat, I felt like a skeleton with loosely wrapped skin when I was a minus size, and sitting on a skinny rump just plain hurts. But now I’m starting to feel like I’m wearing someone else’s body and it’s time to climb out of it before I mistake it for my own. Which gets me back to chocolate.
Flickr photo by Janjochemo
The idea of learning to make chocolates, and more importantly writing about learning to make chocolates, is that it offers me joy and a sense of accomplishment in troubling times. Having been an academic, I spent years writing and teaching about the problems of the world, and I was considered very wise. But all that social critique eventually eats away at the soul as wisdom turns to cynicism. By replacing my voracious appetite for news with a voracious appetite for chocolate, I have found far more joy than any academic knowledge ever brought me, but at the cost of having to buy a whole new wardrobe – which, when you are unemployed, is not nearly as fun as it ought to be.
So in order to tighten my belt, both figuratively and literally, I spent a week not making chocolate, not eating (much) chocolate, and drinking lots of water. I did sit ups and pushups and jumping jacks and walked along the beach real fast. I stored the everyday dishes way out of reach so I’d have to stretch to get them. I watched from a psychic distance as my skinny teenager gobbled up store-bought cupcakes the size of hats, and took over our chocolate covered kitchen to bake brownies and cookies and devoured them with glass after glass of whole organic milk. I ate barely-dressed salad with roast chicken and skipped the potatoes and stuffing and gravy. I even trimmed the fat from my corned beef on St. Patrick’s Day, a first for me. And I snacked on vegetables, apple sauce and dirty air. Until I remembered the saffron ganache.
I’d made a double batch last time I made chocolates, thinking we love it so much, why not make even more. I took it out of the fridge, rolled it in confectioners’ sugar, and piled the truffles high in a porcelain sugar bowl. After a weekend spent eating a few, some just as they were, others piped into cored strawberries or sandwiched between Mira’s cookies, I felt another clasp fasten tightly on that stranger’s body I’ve been wearing. Now it would be even harder to take off, thanks to those luscious saffron truffles.
But that’s okay. I go outside and admire the beautiful women – the size tens, twelves, and even higher — the ones who walk like they own their bodies. I watch Mad Men where the women look like women, not adolescent boys, and I think, a colorful sundress, a Wonder Bra and a few dozen martinis and I’d be Mad Men perfect. I put on my size ten clothes and twirl around in the mirror and the only thing that looks “fat” is the bunion on my right foot. Owning your own body, I’m coming to realize after years of being underweight and now nudging upward exponentially, is all a matter of perspective, attitude, and the right fit.
Flickr art by Quirkybird
I go into the kitchen and look around for some chocolates and find they’re all gone after a week of not making them – and I realize this is my life, and my body, and I want chocolate in it. Which is not to say that I am going to forsake exercise and consume a pound of chocolates a day, pile the food high on my plate or continue to eat like a sumo-wrestler as I did when I weighed ninety-five pounds and was so stressed out my hair was breaking off by handfuls like I’d come down with a bad case of chemo. Life is precious. And chocolate, like friendship, is best enjoyed in precious moments, moments when we feel in need, moments when we want to share our joy, moments when we feel good about ourselves and the world that cradles us.
So I put the saffron truffles in the freezer and got out the chocolate molds. There’s more to the ideal weight than mere pounds and body fat. The ideal weight is the weight we just happen to be when we love our bodies, we love our selves, and we love the people who surround us. And when we reach that ideal weight, what better way to thank the universe than by celebrating with just a touch – or more – of homemade chocolates.
Flickr photo by foxtongue
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I say “hooray for chocolates”… it looks good on you!
Hello Janice,
Well, here writes a skinny european lady to you.
Reading your site makes me hungry. But nevertherless I have trained myself to walk on the skinny side. For me chocolate is a gravy dream. You won”t believe it, but according to the american way of life chocolate is only a dream for me. Reading your site about chocalate makes me feel hungry indeed.
But I won’t walk on the wrong side, because I love to be skinny in Paris.
To walk on the wild side in this beautiful exiting city gives me a feeling of being a friend of Chanel. I cannot imagine that because of gravy stuff, I would have the size of an american lady who loves to eat all the wrong things.
That sounds like a bad dream. So I stuck to healthy stuff and sometimes………
o yes, I take a second to eat chocolate, but only the Belgian ones, made by hand and stuffed with love. But to be honest, I have never tasted yours!!!!!!
Maybe you can make me a chocolate believer.
O yes, I don’t have muscles.
I am very glad to have read your site, your way of writing is captivating. I will follow your blog. Good luck. Marja
Another great post. I hope you get the column you deserve someday!
You’re too kind, Glynis — but let’s hope!!
Reads like an uplifting novella at the beach basking in the sun (not good for chocolate-take a cooler) in a huge straw hat under a striped umbrella with bi-focal sunglasses propped on the end of your nose slathered in white zinc sun-screen. A vision only those in love with the experience can appreciate.
Amen.
I’m thoroughly convinced all my extra pounds are pure muscle. They couldn’t possibly be butter or sugar.
I hear you sister. Although, I would still be considered slim by anyone’s standards other than a nutritionist, exercise trainer or modeling agency, I’ve been watching the body fat on my thighs and tummy rise as I bake and eat all kinds of delicious chocolate treats for my chocolate blog. I love your attitude Janice, about embracing your body, and I have never had more fun than since I started my chocolate blog, other than a few acting gigs I did, but at the same time, I struggle with the fact that I am an older mother with a 2 year old and a six year old and I want to be around for them as long as possible. Chocolate is healthy, as long as it is eaten in moderation and I don’t think 50 grams and upwards daily would be considered “moderation”. I want to live life to the fullest, eat what tastes good and makes me happy, but be healthy at the same time. I’m still trying to find that balance.
I completely agree on all scores, Michelle. Sometimes I consider doing away with all but the chocolate and caffeine in my diet, but then sanity grabs hold of me and reminds me that I must keep the heart disease and cancer at bay as long as possible, not to mention rolls of blubber that are no longer in the realm of “things that happen to other people” and instead are in the realm of “things that will happen to me if I don’t stop stuffing my mouth with truffles.” (And note to readers: if you haven’t already checked out Michelle’s blog, Chocolate Central, by all means do! She’s going to be guiding people on chocolate tours around the globe — sign up now, what better way to see the world!)
Eat chocolate everyday!
Janice, this is one of the most beautiful posts I’ve ever read. You are beyond exquisite. I felt like I was reading the writing of a famous author. And the truth is, you should and will be a famous author someday soon. I’m so lucky to have someone so wise in my life. This dialogue, this introspection, is honest, pure, and true. Thanks, as always, for sharing.
Wow. That’s not only great praise, but coming from a writer and blogger I so admire, I’m quite humbled! Thank you, Andrea!
Goodmorning Janice!
it’s 7.30am, just woke up and went straight to your covered chocolate kitchen. I loved your story. You are a wonderful writer, when can I buy a book from you? Your stories in a book would sell absolutely! Yesterday a friend and I went to Amsterdam, sunny weather, we sat outside in the sun and had chocolates with tea! and I thought of you. I always have that when I drink tea and eat chocolate. I am looking forward to your next story but a book written by you that I can read when I am drinking Pommegrade Oorlong tea, eating chocolates, pretending you made them, that would make my day, so when? Just say when!
I must add my voice to those who are clammoring for more, more! Apparently, a book is what we long for; and perhaps, another chocolate.
Great article Janice! I am right behind you on that one. Food, especially chocolate, should be savoured and enjoyed without guilt. It is part of living fully and enjoying ourselves and our life.