Papa Don't preach, I'm Keeping my Italian Food Baby...

I was going to write a blog dedicated to pasta and veggies in the grocery store but my fat inspired me to write the following instead. *note to my mom. The definition of a"food baby" is: when you eat so much, that your stomach looks pregnant. Example: "I ate so much, I look like I am having a food baby!"*


I gained a nice round 8 pounds while on vacation for 2 weeks in Mexico for my wedding. I don't know how it happened, I ate carefully, tried to ignore stressors and drank mostly water. But no, the Gods of Cellulite struck me with a friendly 8 pounds to welcome me into marriage. I am not ready to look like Humpty Dumpty. Needless to say, I was perplexed, annoyed, bloated and irritated with the squishy effect on my hips. A little background, when I arrived in Italy I quickly lost weight, around 15 pounds and felt great. Why did I feel great? I was eating everything, not watching myself and getting skinny at the same time. Who wouldn't love that? I would hesitate when going for pizza but after seeing my jeans a bit saggy I decided it was ok. Pasta? Pass it over. Pastries? One might help me stay awake. Then I tried on my wedding dress and it was suddenly huge on me. I needed to gain weight. My solution was to eat gelato everyday. The Gelato lady at "Tipsys" in Rivoltella became my friend. She knows my favorite flavors (pistacchio, amarella, chocolato fondente) and that I like one medium scoop in a small cup with no whip cream. Finally with a little help of the gelatos, fried pizza, and a Wonderbra, I filled in my dress for the wedding day.

Skip to the wedding: I got compliments from all my female cousins for looking slim, "tiny" and they asked my secret. I felt a bit of shame watching their expression of horror when I would honestly say; "Nothing, really I eat everything I want and don't work out". The God's of Cellulite heard, struck me with Fast Fat and soon my jeans fit just right. Ouch. Upon my return they were tight. I went to get my "big" pants and...they were snug.

It's been two weeks since then. I've been wondering what I did wrong to gain that weight. Was it getting married? Does getting frumpy happen instantly? Was I stressed? I was mostly calm and happy. Did I eat bad? My Abuelitas food was light, mostly soups and taquitos. After meditating on my new "roll" in life, I sat down and told my fat that she had to go. She looked sad but understood she was an unwelcome guest. I walked her around 10 miles this week. To Sirmione and back (2 hours), to Desenzano and back (1 hour). Drank liters of water (they are sold in liters here). I avoided pastries and even bought a cereal called Fitness that tastes like trees. But still I hadn't solved the problem of why I gained the weight so fast.

Finally I decided that no, I didn't do anything wrong. The problem is Italian food. It is amazingly fresh, low in salt, preservatives and high in protein and good carbs. I noted during our last grocery shopping trip that we fill the cart with veggies and pasta more than anything else. It is Italy's fault. The women of all ages here where I live in the north are no larger than a size 8. Plus sizes aren't sold and don't exist, nor large bras and panties. These women cook good, they eat strong. So the weight is definitely related to the type of food. On that note I resolved to go back to my Italian diet of eating what I want, as much as I want and guess what? This week, after eating gelato, pizza, pounds of pasta, salad, cheese and wine I am 3 pounds lighter.

The Italian Food Baby Guide: Eat Plenty of the Following

Drink lots of clear Italian liquids

Enjoy seafood freely

Help yourself to a slice of Pizza before grocery shopping

Pasta is your friend: savor rich pappardelle with a rich mushroom cream sauce for something light.

Salami is for winners.

Salad after the main entreé helps digest. Don't forget a fat slice of cheese.

Seconds for salad have zero calories.

Pastries make you a nicer happier person. They are filled with magic and are also calorie free in the Italian Food Baby Diet.

My fat went from being a growing growling bull dog to a chiwawa dressed in a pink sweater like Paris Hilton's dog Tinkerbell. I'm still going to walk her till she disappears. Little fat even like Tinkerbell is an annoying yapper and I want to be as healthy as possible.

My dad used to kid around with me when I was chunky in middle school. This time I would sing (to Madonna's song):

"Papa I know you're going to be upset
'Cause I was always your little girl
But you should know by now
I've turned into a real big fatty.

Papa don't preach, I've been frying my food deep
Papa don't preach, I've been losing chub

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my Italian food baby"