Who Moved My Cheese?

I’ve learned something. The consumption of all my favorite french bites without benefit of daily walks along the Seine is not a good thing. So I have been forced to put myself on a very strict, dare I say un-french regimen. As painful as it will be, it is necessary.
Eight weeks since I’ve returned from Paris, it is now time to really take the bull by the horns. I’ve decided to view this time as training for my next trip abroad. My palate will be truly cleansed. We’ll see how this goes but I’ve enlisted the skills of a trainer to keep me focused. This means I will be smelling bread, but not eating it (french sigh). I’ll be smelling cheese; but not eating it (french sigh).
Now would be the time for me to start le smoking (french puff).


one bite at a time



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