I Cannes Do This

In the past two weeks – which included a week in Cannes – I lost three pounds. (Total lost so far: 52.)

I’m not sure how, but I’m not complaining.

Actually, that’s a lie – I do know how. Despite the fact that I slept nine cumulative hours between Tuesday and Saturday (with these hours, I could have gone into investment banking!), I didn’t lose control. I planned as best I could, and when I couldn’t, or when I ate something I wouldn’t usually touch, I didn’t succumb to my usual black-and-white thinking and say, “I’ve messed up – I might as well binge.”

When I was sent a huge tin of chocolate-covered cookies – the very same tin of cookies I binged on last year (in fact, the binge that set me binging through the whole of Cannes) – I promptly gave them away. Every day I skipped the hotel buffet breakfast – too much to deal with when one is that tired – in favor of fruit and yogurt I bought at the Monoprix. I did my best to fit in a little exercise every day, doing a bit of yoga or some crunches and pushups in my hotel room, and taking the four flights of stairs to my room (except when I was in four-inch heels at 5 a.m.). I ignored the foie gras (only in Cannes would the phrase “Oh no, not foie gras again” actually apply to my life) and had sushi when it was available. I tried not to arrive at 9:30 p.m. dinners too hungry – sometimes, despite ludicrously luxe sounding menus (pink lobster and spring vegetables truffle, anyone?), I ate a quick pre-dinner dinner from the Monoprix, which made it all the easier for me actually to do my job. And I did my job with a glass of champagne in hand, so I didn’t feel like I was denying myself everything.

There were loads of small victories: the chocolate mousse I left over half of, the desserts I ignored because they didn’t look worth the calories, the diet Coke I gave in and drank, but not excessively. (I gave up diet Coke cold turkey in November, because I believe it’s the gateway drug to sugar. But I don’t drink coffee and in Cannes desperately needed the caffeine!)

With each day that passed successfully – each day I left over more than half of my chocolate mousse, or fit in a workout -- I felt a little stronger and a little better. I still felt huge compared to the average partygoer (never mind Angelina, Mischa, et al), but I stopped worrying – as I had been at the beginning of the week – that I’d binge so much my dresses wouldn’t fit. I felt okay. And at Cannes, that felt great.

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Fig update: You know it’s a bad sign when – as you’re cleaning your flat in preparation for a friend coming to visit from the US – you discover an old Alanis Morrisette CD, play it, and realize half the songs speak directly to your current situation.

Sigh.