Seek the Mean

I just started reading Mireille Guilliano's French Women Don't Get Fat a few days ago.

It all started with Longchamp bags. I saw them, realized they were the epitome of I-don't-give-a-fuck chic (you know how fashionable I am, daah-lings), and sort of decided I liked French people.

So I thought, hey, book about French people. This should be cool.

I'm entirely tangential that way.

Basically, the book talks about how French women think their way out of obesity.  Mind over matter, mostly, as Guilliano discourages the extreme fad diets that most women get into around eight to ten times a year. You indulge yourself, occasionally, making the indulgence a particularly savory treat and all the more rewarding when you finally get to eat it.

In case you're wondering, no I don't exactly need to diet.  I'm okay, I think, but I do have a terrible relationship with food.  I skip meals, I binge when I feel like it, and mostly I think my eating habits are NOT HEALTHY.

So this might be a helpful book after all.

What's more interesting, really, is how it's a helpful book for reminding us of the path of moderation.  Sort of like Aristotle's Mean, except a lot easier to figure out and infinitely tastier.  

I'm thinking it's applicable even beyond food.

I think work has poisoned my spending habits.  I earn my own money, I slave away every freaking day (yep, have freelance writing and translation projects to face on weekends), and I suppose I started thinking that I deserved to indulge my self time and again.  

Soon enough, indulgences became more regular and before I knew it, I've lost even the joy that shopping brings.

I'm not spending beyond my means, really, but I think I've lost sight of frugality in the past few years.  So reading this book, it really got me thinking.  

My main weakness is shopping for skin care, so I've decided to incorporate Guilliano's philosophy into my attitude towards unholy consumerism.    I'm avoiding temptations, recalibrating my needs and setting an incentive that will make the days of frugality joyful and bearable. 

A Longchamp, maybe.