My ethnic heritage is half Norwegian/Swedish and half Italian. The way I figure it, that is my the source of my weight problem, because when it comes to food, my appetite is the offspring of a marriage between a conquering Viking who invented the Smorgasbord and a loving Mama Mia, chanting, "Mangia, Mangia!" In other words, I love good food and drink and enjoy a great meal with close friends, or even friends not that close for that matter, as much as anything in the world. And that love is simply deadly for the waistline.
After reading Jeff Gordinier's delightful interview in today's New York Times with Simon Doonan, discussing Donnan's new book, Gay Men Don't Get Fat, I think I might develop another theory: I eat like a straight, macho guy, or, at best, a healthy Lesbian who likes to climb mountains and hunt. The solution is pretty straightforward, if not "straight": I need to eat like a Gay Guy: sushi, salad, berries, light, light, light.
Don't get me wrong. I love all that stuff, like whole grains, salads, and fish filets and legumes. The problem is that I love them to excess, like hungry Nordic lord or a zoftig Italian Grandma. I also love Meat. Almost any meat. Burn the hair off and serve it up. Not good, even in small amounts.
I have to say that I found the interview totally entertaining and that Simon Doonan came across as a person I would love to get to know better--probably over a hearty meal with lots of red wine, instead of a light lunch. The dry humor and quick wittedness apparent in the article have only whet my appetite for more, so I think I will have to read some of his other books, like Wacky Chicks and Eccentric Glamour, to consume some more of his entertaining repartee.
Meals. Appetite. Consume. Sigh. It's all about food in the end, isn't it? Oh, well. Pass the champagne. I'll toast to that.
Now off to get the books. Check back for a review at some point.