Americans are fat.

Americans are fat.

Let me give you a second to let that settle in.

For years we have been discussing ways to end the obesity epidemic in this country, but none of them have targeted the root cause of our ever-expanding rear ends. America is in need of a serious makeover when it comes to the way we teach our children how to eat. Here's the catch: that change has to come from overweight adults who struggle enough to create a healthy lifestyle for themselves in the age of fast-food family dinners and microwaved...well, everything.

In the past few years, especially during my time in France, I have become fascinated by cultural eating habits. Sometimes I feel like a victim to my country's eating disorder, as it is extraordinarily difficult to change habits, especially those established as a child. I was originally shocked in Paris to find many families didn't own microwaves accompanied by a severe lack of American-like snack foods.

These things quickly grew on me, though, and showed me that it is possible to eat well in 2010. I had also prepared myself for many cultural eating differences by reading books. One in particular, French Women Don't Get Fat, by Mireille Guiliano, an insightful look into the classic French lifestyle changed my entire perspective.

During the recent midterm election, I took major notice of one advertisement against a proposed tax on junk foods. The advertisement showed a curvaceous woman pushing a cart full of questionably healthy foods ranting about how the government has no right to tell her how to feed her family (I am paraphrasing horribly).

San Fransisco has pushed to remove toys from kid's meals that do not meet certain health standards. A woman on the news was fuming about how she could make proper choices for her children, and she would be the one to choose whether or not her child received a toy with their meal (which I'm pretty sure was always McDonald's choice anyway).

So, let me get this straight. Americans are extremely fat, much fatter than Europeans. We are clearly making poor decisions about proper lifestyles, but we will not allow anyone to tell us what to eat because "we can make our own choices." Does anyone else see a lapse in logic here?


What are your thoughts?

11

Honestly, I don't have a theme or anything coherent to say. My brain has been on frazzle mode for the past week trying to stretch myself in various directions for all of my commitments.

What's important though, is that I'm going back to Paris in 11 days! I'm extremely excited to eat croissants and sit on the smelly metro, but I haven't had much time to prepare myself because of previously mentioned commitments. I absolutely must finish this journalism school application before leaving. Yikes. If that doesn't light a fire under me I'm not sure what will.

 Consequentially, my blog is suffering from my lack of spare time. Sorry, kids. At times, having more on your mind makes it more difficult to write, and here I would have thought the craziness would have provided me with endless material!

Though, here's a strange thought: I'm actually enjoying the cooler temperatures. I missed out on a proper Michigan fall last year, and everything from the crunch leaves to the wind gusts makes it feel more like home.

I'm still 22, damnit.

This past week has gone by so quickly, yet it feels as though so many things have happened. There's been a frost, a wind storm, an early birthday dinner, an emotional breakdown, and a whack on the head with the trunk of a car. A pretty average week in the life of a twenty-two year old, I'd say. And as my last week as a twenty-two year old, I'd prefer making it as typical as possible.

I find years to be more accurately measured from one birthday to the next or one Autumn to the next (if you're uncomfortable with birthdays. In my case they're almost the same) than by measuring a calendar year beginning in January. Because really, who wants to begin their year with the most miserable weather imaginable? Did I mention that I'm from Michigan? Birthdays and Autumn offer a more natural measurement of time passed.

Twenty-two has without a doubt been my best and most unique year yet, though I suppose every year has been that way. I spent the majority of 22 in a foreign country, and honestly, I'm not sure I'd recognize my 21 year-old self if she walked up and said "I'm you from a year ago, fool" (she liked to imitate Mr. T), and that's exactly what I wanted from this past year-- to grow. (On a side note I did see a hilarious commercial in France featuring Mr. T with a French voice. My brain warpped out for a second, unable to comprehend what it had just seen.)

While turning twenty-two in the most beautiful city on earth was definitely more exciting than turning twenty-three in Dexter, Michigan, I'm no less excited about the year to come than I was about the one that has just passed. If that one could exceed my expectations I have no doubt that every year to follow will have the capability to do the same.

So here's to turning 23 and to what I know will become excellent year!

Designing a Busy Life

Oy vey! Becoming a part of the real world again has been a wonderful experience so far, though I'm sure it's effects will be short lived.

On Monday I woke up at 6:20, the earliest I have been up in months, to prepare for my 1:15 commute to Birmingham for my first day of retraining with Lindamood-Bell, the company I worked for last summer tutoring students with learning disabilities. Birmingham is an adorable town, tres chic, and as I arrived a bit early I had some time to pick up a coffee at Starbucks and gaze in the dark windows at Antrhopologie with coffee stained drool sliding down my chin.

After a few hours of observing consultations, I began to make my way back to Dexter for lunch when I suddenly heard a rattling sound coming from the front right side of the car. Not willing to take chances on my survival, I pulled into the nearest parking lot which was thankfully that of a Panera Bread Co to call my dad and eat a delicious panini.

Turns out there is a whole slew of problems with my car, and I'd rather not imagine what could have become of me had I continued driving it in such terrible condition, but as a consequences for my luck, I had the pleasure of spending the rest of the afternoon sitting in my dad's office reading about retirement plans and playing solitaire on my phone.

Today was pretty great compared to yesterday, as I spent all day in a web designing class tinkering around with html and CSS codes, loving every minute of it. Weird, but I'm glad I enjoy it. Hopefully after taking the next two classes I will feel comfortable making my own site! Stay tuned...

Mom and Alex come home tomorrow from Italy... maybe. They're flying Air France, and if you've been watching the news at all lately my skepticism won't surprise you.

Ugh, sorry for the boring post. My latest writing project has been my memoir of my year abroad so I've been sacrificing my blog child. As we all know, there's just not enough time in a day!

Pretentious Pasta

Thank you, Melissa Aney, for your fancy alliterations that will hopefully bring the masses to read my blog.

"What do you miss the most about France?" is a question I have received multiple times, and I believe I have now spent enough time in America to answer this question in a bullet-pointed list.

1. People.
• One in particular, but there is a handful of people that I miss like crazy.
2. Culture.
• A general enough topic to include everything from fashion, to eating habits, to public transportation, though I miss a little of it all. It's not so much the food itself that I miss (though I did just ask Kelsy to bring me back a bag of pasta noodles because I prefer the shapes that they sell in France), but the way people eat. Eating is taken seriously, and mealtime is a sacred part of the day. It sounds stupid, but it just doesn't exist like that here in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
• On several occassions in France I saw two straight men arguing about the order of a menu-- what wine should accompany which course-- and receive no questioning about their sexuality, in the meantime wearing nice shoes and looking you in the eye when they say "cheers".
3. Knowing that even on a boring, lame ol' day, there is something innately fascinating about my life.
4. People watching.
5. Two euro (or less) bottles of wine.
6. Picnics on the river.
7. Espresso.
8. Despite meager wages, my independence.

Fall in Michigan: Photo of the Day

It's been two years since I've seen Fall in Michigan, and it is glorious! The picture doesn't do justice to how beautiful the trees have become. Is it always like this in Michigan in October?
 



Living Life on a Treadmill

No amount of ridiculous multitasking can make me feel fulfilled. I knew that when I got back into the American goove I would feel bored, and so I have tried to combat this boredom with taking on ridiculous amounts of work, which has made my innate knack for being too hard on myself kick into full gear when I begin everything and finish nothing. Ok, that's not completely true; I finish plenty of things, but the teenage bully inside of my head likes to tell me that I suck and calls me a dummy. So rude.

Alors...here I am, feeling the quintescential twentysomething sentiment: I have the world at my fingertips and I want to do it all. Right now. I have overloaded myself with things to do and I feel as though I'm running fast on a treadmill, going nowhere.

Doing it all is just a distraction from the fact that I am not loving my current situation. I don't like feeling unproductive, and so I have taken on another J-O-B, my old job, in fact, working with children with learning disabilities, a job that I really enjoyed in the past. It will be nice to get out of the house for work!

Something that I have surprisingly learned is that I love having adult responsibilities like paying rent and utilities and having to do everything for myself. Though, that's not something I would have realized had I not moved home for a while. Thank you, Universe, for sending me a lesson.