I have not felt the sensation of being hungry since the day in July when we hiked into that town that was having its afternoon nap. That is because I CANNOT. STOP. EATING.
I seem to have lost the inner signal that sends a message to the brain when it is appropriate, or not appropriate to be eating. And so the result is that I just keep eating. Everything tastes so good here and I can’t get enough. Last night at dinner at Titi’s house I’m pretty sure I went back for fourths of the gnocchi. Gnocchi, covered in cheese, cream, butter, cream, cheese, butter and more cheese. So delicious.
I eat all day long. Many, many times. Never because I’m hungry, my stomach doesn’t have a chance to register that feeling. I eat because everything is delicious.
It’s becoming a problem. My pants are becoming a problem. And yet, every day I keep on munching. Proof that life as a stay-at-home mom would never work for me. Too much access to food coupled with too little self control.
But don’t worry, I’ve come up with a solution. I’m going to take up smoking. EVERY other woman here does. That pesky rumour that smoking is bad for you clearly hasn’t made it here. Instead, as with the rest of Europe, smoking promises to keep you thin and to increase your brooding coolness. Also, along with chewing gum, it is completely acceptable to just drop your butts (or old gum) on the ground when finished.
The other fantastic, socially acceptable habit is to pull from your cancer stick with every ounce of your lung capacity as you are entering the bus/train, quickly toss it onto the platform and then exhale once soundly inside, sharing it’s delightful stench with your fellow passengers. This is what it means to be truly European. In that it may also be my only solution to avoid needing to join over-eaters anonymous, I think I need to give it a go.
Luckily there is still a fair amount of movement in the day. I’ll admit that my professional bus-rider status has cut into my movement a bit but I’m only riding the bus when the kids are with me or when my grocery load is too bloody heavy.
Yesterday, before the gnocchi gorge fest, we went on a hike in Bäretswil with Titi after D’s hockey practice. This hike was the equivalent of taking the kids to Disneyland. It was creature heaven! Ticks aside, the other creatures provided no shortage of delight.
The forest also featured pretty water falls and woodland beings skillfully carved by a local. Such a beautiful outing.
I have a new mission now while out on our daily wanderings. We have a fairy garden in the house, or at least Helena does. Evidently if you have a fairy garden, you will be visited by fairies who will leave you small gifts and offerings. Turns out our fairy is a dud and so she requires a little assistance from me. It means that I need to keep my eyes peeled for fairy sized treasures while out and about. A feather, a pretty snail shell, a petal…all to be carefully, stealthily collected and smuggled back into the house. It forces me to stay observant, noticing the tiniest of details. It’s been a great perspective which has ensured that I don’t lose the ability to marvel at what’s around us. I highly recommend it to all of you, go out now and find your own fairy garden.
There is a coolness in the air now which is making the early morning bus ride tricky. Not tricky to ride it, just tricky to maintain the sophisticated, European attire. These are the moments when a hoody and some cozy sweats would really come into their own. And yet I don’t want to betray my North American roots. I might be guilty of smuggling a hoody or two into my suitcase. I’m trying so hard not to wear them. Maybe instead, I should try to wear them so well that I’ll be the Zeitgiest of cozy leisure wear in Switzerland! Wish me luck…