Before I had my encounter with my gallbladder I weighed slightly more than 230 pounds. This put me just over the edge of the “obese” category in the Body Mass Index.
Unfortunately my time in the 230s happened to correspond with Johnny and Jodi’s wedding, and so I appear quite huge in all of the wedding pictures. Oh well.
After eating nothing by rice and cardboard for three months, I was down to almost 190 pounds, which took me right down to the edge of “normal” on the BMI.
I’ve since settled in at 208 pounds, which takes my BMI back up to the mid-overweight range.
I felt more comforatable at 190 pounds (although it was an odd 190 pounds because it was an odd way to lose weight that involved absolutely no increase in physical fitness), and would like to head that way. That said, 208 is a much better weight than 230.
The strange thing is that after 29 days in France, eating more cheese than I have in years, having lots of ice cream and other tasty desserts, partaking often of the abundant 75% cacao chocolate available, and having a pain au chocolat for breakfast every morning, I returned home at exactly the same 208 pounds.
Part of this must be due to the increase in physical activity — I walked a lot more in France than I do here at home. And I certainly didn’t have any need for “between meal snacking.” Our meals tended to be fresh and vegetarian when we cooked at home (the local Biocoop have a wonderful array of tofu-based preparations, including smoked tofu, which is great).
Still, it does seem like something of a miracle.
Comments
I think that you are onto something about France — most people walk a lot. It is hard to do here. They also dont snack much and they rather drionk alcohol than pop. Finally they take their time over a meak especially lunch. I love the way that the entire country comes to a halt at 12 and does not go back until 2. None of this sandwich crap at the desk. The conversation at lunch is usually not about work and there is still a lot of love making in the middle of the day before people go home in the evening to their spouses.
Ah what a culture!
You cannot, in our experience, buy coffee “to go” in France. It seems that the French consider the idea itself somewhat absurd — why would you take coffee away when you could sit outside, relax, and drink it “in?”