A page from the Italians
After cycling class on Monday a few of us became engaged in a conversation about our Mother’s Day food indulgences. It turned into a conversation about Italians and their daily indulgences. They (Italians) eat rich food, drink plenty of wine, and always have dessert. But, somehow the Italians don’t have the weight and health issues as Americans. Hmm…How is this possible? Here’s what I think…
For starters, they eat fresh, seasonal food. No processed, boxed stuff. If it’s not fresh, local then no-go.
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They take their time with their food. There’s no rush — no half hour lunch breaks and then zip back to the office to sit. Their meals can go on for hours.
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They eat their meals in courses. The food is served on separate plates. One dish at a time. By eating, one dish at a time, they’re concentrating on the goodness of each dish. Also, this means the food has time to digest.
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Eating is social. It’s about catching up on the day’s events, laughing, and enjoying one another and the food. No sitting in front of a computer or TV and eating solo. No. No. Food is about togetherness. Nothing like a meal shared.
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They walk — everywhere. Repeat: They walk — everywhere.
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And finally for the Italians — it’s quality over quantity. No big gulps. No super-size. No massive plates piled high. The food they eat is excellent so they don’t feel the need to overindulge. They are not gluttonous.
Italians indulge daily — in food, excellent food, conversation, laughter, and they walk everywhere their feet will carry them.
Chrisetta Mosley
I am a product – and now a survivor – of childhood obesity. As a child, my family always told me that my extra weight was merely baby fat and I’d eventually grow out of it. I never did. Instead, my childhood is filled with memories of not being able to ride a bike, flattening its training wheels from being over the recommended weight, and avoiding P.E. classes by any means necessary. For years, I wore my fatness like a wounded soldier wears a Purple Heart - with pride. I owned the look. I dressed it up. I worked the room. There wasn't a skinny girl who intimidated me. I made sure my hair was laid just right. Nails polished. Outfits coordinated to the tee. Accessories to compliment every outfit. But everyone has a breaking point, and mine came in the spring of 2004 when I tipped the scale at nearly 400 pounds 388 to be exact. I was MISERABLE trapped inside of that body. I no longer wore my Purple Heart with pride. Rather, I was ashamed and frightened. Ashamed that I had allowed food to become my everything – frightened I would die because of it. Drastic times called for drastic measures... Today, I’m bound and determined to live a better, healthier, active lifestyle. I realize I’m no longer a passenger in my life, I’m the driver. I’m overcoming my inhibitions and I’m slowly but surely saying farewell to my old childhood nemesis, obesity. For once and for all, Farewell Fatso!