French Women Don't Get Fat . . . Peut-etre

French Women Don't Get Fat is the title of a best-selling diet book by Mireille Guiliano. The author--who is of course, French--reveals secrets that enabled her, as a high-powered businesswoman and CEO of the American branch of Veuve Clicquot, to remain svelte.

Guiliano came to America as an exchange student 40 years ago and fell in love with oreos. She got fat, went home, and learned how to control her weight. The book--and a sequel, French Women for All Seasons--share her secrets.

I read the book, enjoyed it, but when you boil it down and subtract the charming French phrases, the secret of French women isn't as mystical as we might wish. It has nothing to do with romance or red wine.

French women don't get fat because they decide that looking slim and enjoying good health is more important than another helping of potatoes.

This is probably a good time to mention that recent news stories report that French women do . . . sometimes . . . get fat. Not as fat as Americans, but in 2006, over 23 percent of Gallic women above age 15 were overweight, according to the International Obesity Task Force. Thirteen percent are obese, meaning their body-mass index is over 30.

How does that compare with the US? In 2004, 28% of US women were overweight, and an additional 33 percent--one third!--were obese. Add those figures together--that means only 39 percent of American women are NOT fat.

According to recent news stories, the reasons that French women gain weight are the same mundane reasons the rest of us do. We're all eating more fast food, which is high in fat, and getting less exercise--because most of us are working and don't have time to prepare the nice, healthful meals we'd all like to feed our families.

The NY Times and other papers reported this lately, but Slate.com has an excellent in-depth article here.

That being said, I liked Guiliano's book and got a few good recipes out of it (though quite honestly, the much-ballyhoo'd taste of her leek soup escapes me) (It's probably my cooking that's to blame).

The book is Full of Good Advice. THe advice just isn't what we want to hear. There's not haute cuisine magic or superb wine that's going to make us thin. Nope. We must do what French women do--be satisfied with less. Don't stuff ourselves. Go out and walk, take the stairs. You know. . . the stuff all the other diet books get around to saying, eventually.

Guiliano tells readers not to eat bad food--life's too short. I'd love to put that advice to work all the time, but there's that nagging little thing called hunger. . . . and it doesn't go away just because there's no excellent food to be had.

OTOH--her advice does sway me when I'm tempted to buy a bag of potato chips or mass-produced Hostess treat as a snack. Especially when I know that I can get much better tasting food if I wait for an hour or so.

So I guess I learned quelque choses from the book.