At work today a girl I’ve known for less than two weeks said “Every time I smell something delicious I think of you.”

I’ve been bringing in batches of cookies, muffins and treats when I can.  I love food and I love to share food.

But I haven’t always had the healthy relationship I have with food now.  There was a stage in my life where words like butter and sugar were  fat and carbohydrates, not essentials in my kitchen.

This week is National Eating Disorders Awareness (NEDA) week and I want to talk about challenges I have faced with my own body and eating issues.

When I was sixteen I moved to Northern Ireland for a year.  I was far away from my friends and most of my family and needed some kind of control.  I became obsessive with what I thought was “healthy” and started to cut out more and more from my diet.  My diet became low-fat, low-carbohydrate, and I became a bit of a low life.

When I first moved to Northern Ireland

As time went on my jeans started to sag, my bras became too big and the rings on my fingers became loose.  I felt cold all of the time and my long blonde hair became thin and limp.  I lived in a pair of track pants and stuck my hair back in a ponytail.

Near the end of the school year I had a few weeks off to study for exams. I went in one day to see a teacher and she looked at me and said “Please go home and have a big lunch.” I remember very clearly that I had planned on not eating until dinner.

Around this time I stopped getting my period.  I calculated my BMI in a health and diet book and realized I was underweight.  A sick voice inside of me was happy, but my eyes filled with tears.

Before flying home to Canada I spent the summer in France.  Friends in the village I’d known for years seemed worried.  A family friend who had come to visit told me straight forwardly “You look malnourished.”

I remember being confused.  Hadn’t the magazines always told me that those last 10 pounds were what I wanted to lose?  Wasn’t everyone trying to lose weight?  Weren’t models admired for their thinness?  How come I had achieved my goal of losing weight and my only prize was a malnourished body, no menstruation and little left of the beautiful sixteen year old I was supposed to be?

I learned something very important around that time.  I learned how important it is to consider the real outcome and motive of a goal before pursuing it. I learned that empty goals like attaining the perfect body or the perfect wardrobe could never make me happy.

When I moved back to Canada I took my health in my own hands.  I started eating a high protein diet and working out so that I could put on weight healthfully and still feel good in my body.  I started socializing more, teaching myself how to cook, and remembering how fun life was before I became pre-occupied with starving myself of life’s pleasures.

Celebrating my 17th birthday with friends

My best friend saved me.  I slept on her sofa, cried on her shoulder, danced on her kitchen floor, cooked on her stove top and wore half of her wardrobe.  She reminded me what being a young woman is really about.  We shared an appetite for good food and appetite for life.

My friend Shirin and I in Spain the summer after grad

I graduated from high school that year with a healthy body, the best grades of my life, an award in English literature and an acceptance letter to the university of my dreams.

The night of my grad

When I think of how many young women lose their dreams to eating disorders it breaks my heart.  I would never have been able to accomplish what I have had I stayed focused on self deprivation.

Of course I still have moments of unease with my body.  I am not immune to the pressures of society or the pressure I put upon myself.  But I push through.  I invite a close friend for dinner, confide in my boyfriend and remind myself that I want to be a positive role model for other young women.

Food plays a major, wonderful role in my life and these days I work very hard on sharing that pleasure with as many people as possible.  It is nourishment, pleasure and something we all have in common.

These days I put love, health and real accomplishments before empty pursuits.

With my life in my own hands, I might as well make it as delicious as possible.

Eating spicy diva popcorn in Paris

So many women dream of going to Paris.

After finishing my first year of university and surviving my first real winter in Toronto, I decided I needed a change.  I also wanted to indulge in my own dream of living in the city of love, romance, and Hemmingway’s moveable feast.

I liked my first year of school but wanted some real life education.  I called my parents and told them I was going for a year.  Always supportive of my dreams, they told me to go for it.  I left my journalism class behind and movee to Paris in the fall of 2005.

I found a job working an au pair-a full-time nanny- for a young couple with two small children in a wealthy neighborhood.  I had no way of preparing myself for the challenges ahead.

Paris did not greet me with open arms.  The first months were filled with tears and I was overwhelmed by the strict cultural rules, the demands of the family and the loneliness that lay within the four walls of my shoebox apartment.

I spent many days chasing after children with a Harry Potter knapsack on my back and chocolate stains on my shirt.  It was far from the romance I dreamed of, and I often looked up to the Eiffel Tower to remind me what I was doing there.

Eventually I got used to my job and the loneliness went away.  The children started to respect me more and I got the hang of my routine.  I made friends and spent my weekends out at dinner parties, drinking, dancing and enjoying the city.  I learnt to tie my scarf like a Parisian, ignore persistent men and to get respect from waiters.  I walked around Paris day after day and allowed myself to get lost.

That’s when I fell in love.  Not with a French man, since my love life consisted of quick coffee dates that ended in me never calling my suitor back, but with the city.  Once I got comfortable I was able to explore the way I wanted to.  I looked beyond the lines of the Louvre and Notre Dame and enjoyed the city based upon my whims.  I walked down unknown streets, wrote in cafes and stopped in restaurants when I liked the menu.

I began to fill my notebook with addresses and decided that I wanted to share all of my gems with women like myself.  I would write a guidebook that women could carry in their purse, unlike the heavy books I had filled with too much information that sat sadly on my bookshelf.  My book would take them to all of my favorite haunts and walks, so even if they were just visiting, they would get a taste of what the city really has to offer.

I left Paris after a year with perfect French, a Moleskin full of notes, a renewed confidence in myself and some solid connections.  I also left knowing it wouldn’t be long before I came back.

The love affair continued over the following years as I finished my degree in Toronto and made it through three more freezing winters.  I often stopped in Paris on my way to the South of France in the summer and stayed in a friend’s apartment.  Every time I returned I was reminded of the independence that Paris offered me, the elegance it taught me, and the freedom that every unknown street held for me.

Around the same time I finished university I fell in love again, but this time with a man, not a city.  I moved to Vancouver and spent a summer working on kicking off a career in broadcast journalism, working as a researcher for food TV while balancing trays of drinks and working for tips at a steakhouse on the side.  Amongst all of this I fell deeper in love, and the city I was born in started to feel like home again for the first time in years.

It was one of the happiest summers of my life, but with school finished I knew I still had to finish the project I started years ago.  So when the summer came to an end, I took my tip jar filled with money, packed my suitcase, and reluctantly kissed my boyfriend goodbye at the airport.

For the past three months I have been back and forth between Paris and the South of France.  I have moved apartments several times, worn through my boots walking around the city, worked as a bartender and a waitress, have had many sleepless nights and have overcome many doubts.  I have notebooks filled with addresses and business cards, and enough lists and maps to fill a book in no time.  I still have some fine combing to do and some information to gather but I am on my way.

I am homesick, quickly going broke, and miss my love more than ever.

The next part of this story?

It’s still being written.

I love being in a country where food is treated with so much respect.

The French love to eat, whether it’s foie gras at dinner time or buttery croissants in the morning, each bite is relished.

During the holidays there is pain d’épices (a thick gingerbread loaf), hot spiced wine, roasted chestnuts and sweet and savory crepes at the Christmas markets.

Like the rest of the year, the French enjoy the season’s sweet delicacies without worrying about a new diet they’ll start as a part of a New Year’s resolution.

This may be a bit of a generalization, because yes, French women do get fat, gain weight and diet on occasion.  But for the most part their healthy attitude towards food and exercise is what keeps them looking and feeling great all year round.

I love spending Christmas in the South of France where good food is savored just as much as long walks down country roads and visits to the market.

There seems to be more of everything in moderation here.  Rather than trays of cocktails and an excess of sweets there is a glass of champagne and a taste of pate on fresh baguette.  Instead of running to the gym for an early intense workout there are cold winter walks with the family and games of boules played bundled in scarves and gloves.

Here are a few wonderful ways to enjoy the holiday like the French with plenty of good food and no remorse:

BUY FOOD FROM THE MARKET

In France many women will do all of their shopping at specialty shops and markets.  The meat comes from the butcher, the potatoes from a fruit and vegetable stand, the cheese from the fromagier and the dessert from the patisserie.  Not only is shopping on foot great exercise, it also means buying real ingredients and steering away from pre-packaged goods.  Processed foods bought at the grocery store like chips, soda and bottled salad dressings have very little nutritional value.  In turn our bodies are starving for more, and won’t be satisfied in the same way they will be after eating real whole foods.  Some great ideas for appetizers include a simple bruschetta, or a  homemade aioli to go with some freshly cut vegetables before dinner starts.

HAVE A DRINK

Many celebratory meals in France start with a glass of champagne.  Let the bubbles tease your tongue and compliment a salty hors-d’oeuvre at the start of a meal.  Skip the double vodka crantini or even a second glass.  I’ve drank too much at holiday parties before and always live to regret it.  Beyond consuming too many calories, it simply isn’t fun being hungover.  In France, I have never seen a woman drunk.  They drink all of the time, but it is a glass of champagne, not the bottle, and rarely the heavily alcoholic drinks we have at home.  Having a few glasses of wine throughout the night, with food, is usually a good way to go.

DRINK WATER

Most French women always have a bottle of still and/or sparkling water on the table.  Take breaks from wine or eggnog and hydrate with some water.  This is a nice distraction from drinking too much and makes for a more pleasant morning after. Water helps carry nutrients to every cell in the body, flushes out nasty toxins and improves circulation and blood flow. Sparkling water is also great for digestion, but avoid club soda because it’s very high in sodium.

ENJOY EACH DISH ON ITS OWN

For holiday meals buffets are usually the easiest way to go.  The problem is we tend to pile our plates so high that we lose appreciation for each dish.  The taste of a perfectly made sweet potato casserole can be lost if mixed with your mom’s famous stuffing.  While the French seem to eat a lot because they eat several courses, they are simply stretching out the enjoyment of each dish.  Four courses enjoyed over time can easily add up to less than is piled onto one plate.  Eating slower is better for digestion and lets the body know when it’s full.  Many cultures, like the Japanese, stop eating before they are full as a simple rule.  This also helps the body become less lethargic after dinner, and a nice walk might be more tempting then sitting in front of the TV.

STUFF THE TURKEY, NOT YOURSELF

The French never go for seconds.  There is a French saying that there are only two bites that matter: the first and the last.  Enjoy each dish while eating it but save room for dessert afterwards.  French women understand how to taste everything without being too stuffed, and make sure there is always room for a bite of beautiful tart or a bûche de Noël, a rich chocolate cake with thick buttery ice cream, at Christmas.  The French take pleasure in their food.  They eat with their knife and fork and savour every bite.  Mireille Guiliano, author of the best-selling book French Women Don’t Get Fat: The Secret of Eating for Pleasure says that Americans have a different relationship with food that too often excludes pleasure and makes them eat more.  And that, she says, is the difference between the way the French and Americans view food. It may also explain why Americans are often overweight.

HAVE YOUR CAKE

How do pastry popping Parisians stay so slim?  They have their cake without fearing it.  In Michael Pollan’s in defense of food he describes a survey that clearly showed the different attitudes towards food:

“Asked what comes to mind upon hearing the phrase ”chocolate cake,” Americans were more apt to say ”guilt,” while the French said ”celebration”; ”heavy cream” elicited ”unhealthy” from Americans, ”whipped” from the French. The researchers found that Americans worry more about food and derive less pleasure from eating than people in any other nation they surveyed.”

Saving room for dessert not only helps you control portions before hand, but lets the body know you’re not depriving it.  A French woman will never binge on dessert because she knows she will probably have some tomorrow, and would hate to be too full for her morning croissant either way.

GO FOR A WALK

The French love to walk.  It is rare to catch a French woman in sneakers and a sweatshirt, especially in Paris.  But you can always find them strolling in some stylish flats or daunting heels.  Walking all day around a city and taking the stairs as much as possible is an amazing workout.  It is also a great way to enjoy a crisp winter day and feel good.

Mireille Guiliano wrote a French Manifesto that goes as follows:

FRENCH WOMAN’S MANIFESTO:

Enjoying pastries in Paris

My parents shopping at the market last winter

Winter walk with my dad

Family portrait last Christmas