February 23 ,2010

Rob and the girls left for Ireland this morning. I've been under the weather for the last few weeks and decided to stay here to try to recover. The girls are currently on a two-week break from school. Claire asked my why. Well, it's not Christmas break, which already happened, and it's not Spring break which happens in April.

Claire finally had an "Aha" moment. "It's because," she explained, "we've been in school for six weeks without a break."

There you have it.

I have informally polled the girls on how they feel about being here. Megan would like to stay another year. Claire is very glad we came, but will be ready to go back to the US this summer. Erin was ready to go back last October.

Every few days, as I waddle to the creperie, I pass this place that claims (after I looked up a few words in the French-English dictionary) to use ultrasound technology to zap your fat. There are newspaper articles everywhere about this place and it's pretty crowded. So, I decided to check it out. Free consultation!!

I made the appointment for the consultation. Inside, there are several beautiful French women with gorgeous figures and long dark hair. They are all wearing white lab coats, so you know they have received the latest training in high technology, complex, medical fat zapping. They are professional fat zappers. I liked them immediately.

One of these gorgeous women took me into her examining room and sat me down. She explained the process to me.

It goes like this. You strip down to your skivvies and lie down on an examining table, at which point gorgeous French pretend doctor runs what looks suspiciously like a vacuum cleaner hose over your fatty areas. This contraption apparently "liquifies" you fat and poof!!! Away it goes, never to return.

Pretend French doctor became very animated as she explained the process to me. She helpfully pointed out all of the areas on my physique that could benefit from this latest medical breakthrough. Let's just say she covered a lot of ground.

"You will need double sessions," she informed me. Thanks so very much.

The really great part, she continued, is that there's no diet! The ONLY thing you need to do is drink lots of water, so that the zapped liquified fat can be eliminated through "natural processes." So far so good.

To summarize, I could continue to inhale croissants and crepes, and every few weeks or so lay down and have someone run a vacuum cleaner over me to liquify any accumulated fat. At which point I could happily begin the cycle all over again.

God, I love France!!

So, I was just getting ready to sign the contract, pay the euros, and be on my way to sveltification, when she handed me a stack of papers about two inches thick.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Ah," she purred, "these are just a few simple tips for how to arrange your meals during your treatment."

No problem. I could "arrange" my meals. I could "arrange" to have the croissants first, then the crepe, then the wine. Or, if pretend French doctor suggests it, I could happily start with wine, go to croissants, and finish with the crepe. I am, after all, committed to fat zapping.

So, I glanced at the instructions. A few things jumped out at me.

No alcohol. No alcohol??? I looked at her. "Ah," she said. "Alcohol interferes with the fat liquification process, so you should eliminate it. Of course, " she continued, "if you are at a wedding, you are permitted one glass of champagne."

I bit my lip. There's a whole lot of really good red wine here, and it's cheaper than CocaCola. Plus, I think I've mentioned that I'm alone with my three children for long stretches of time. However, it would just be for a few months, and I could just imagine my new svelte physique. I could do this. I could forgo alcohol for eight weeks or so.

I went back to reading.

Absolutely no sugar. Whoa. What's this? Again, she explained that sugar interferes with the zapping of fat. So, I wouldn't be able to have any. No crepes, no patisserie, no pain au chocolat, no tarte au pomme, not even sugar in my coffee.


I went on down the list. No carbohydrates in the evening, Only non-fat yogurt and milk. No real butter.

I composed myself. Pretend French doctor was tapping a perfectly French manicured nail on her desk. What was the holdup?

"I don't mean to be difficult," I said. "But this looks like a diet."

"It is certainly NOT a diet," she huffed. "It is an ARRANGEMENT of meals."

"What happens," I asked, "if I continue to drink like a fish and huff down croissants and crepes?"

Classic Gallic shrug. "Then, Madame, we cannot guarantee the results. But, if you do follow the arrangements, you will lose centimeters off your pudgy thighs and your stomach will no longer spill over the top of your jeans like a souffle."

I couldn't control myself. "Yeah, but if I follow the arrangements, I'll lose the fat anyway, without your fat zapper. Plus, I won't have to pay you anything."

She sighed. Clearly I was too stupid to understand the nuances of advanced medical technology.


As I left, I held the door for a woman who was just licking the last crumbs of a flaky, buttery croissant off her fingers. She looked hopeful.

Tomorrow, I'm going to the gym.