Because living in Europe is not perfect

I know that living over here in Europe and car hiking through grown up Disneyland is amazing. I love it, really I do. We are moving in two months and part of me is heartbroken. The villages and castles and locals and all the things that make this such an amazing experience.

But man am I fat.

I have got to get out of this place, it is officially killing me probably with heart disease which I think comes from eating too much. If I eat one more brat or frikkadel or frikken anything I’m pretty sure I will explode. At least my pants will explode. Oh whatever, I only wear elastic waist these days anyway.

I can’t bring myself to tell you what the post-England vacation scale told me this morning because the number was so bad I almost barfed, and not from bulimia. I really need a diet friend so I’m going to get chummy with myfitnesspal and get skinny before I move to Vegas where people don’t wear any clothing. Because there aren’t enough clothes to hide all this.

The worst part is the up and down I’ve experienced over here. It looks something like this: Go on vacation, gain 8 pounds. Come home, lose 6 pounds. Go on vacation, gain 8 pounds, come home, lose 6 pounds. If you take 12 vacations over the course of 3 years…you can do the math. It’s so depressing. And yes, I’m a big whiny baby who has nothing to complain about except, I kind of do. Dieting is not easy when you go someplace and they have something amazing to eat that you know you’ll never try again…so you eat 3 helpings of it. One for you, one for your mother, and the one your kid refused to touch because it was “foreign.”

Have I mentioned that we still have two vacations to go on? Stupid vacations.

To any friends or family members who wish they lived here, let me make you feel better. It comes with a price. No one speaks the language and if they do, they drive on the wrong side of the road. Recycling is awesome but I have four garbage cans in my kitchen. They only collect our one little “real” trash can twice a month.

When my husband is in Japan on business and the neighborhood internet goes down there is no one to call and I can’t ask our neighbors because they don’t speak English.

With security checks and base traffic, I have to drive half an hour to get to a post office.

I have to drive half an hour to pick the kids up from school.

I have to drive an hour and a half to spend two hours with my girl Christy, then drive an hour and a half home to get the kids off the bus. And I do.

In order to get the car oil changed in my German wonder car I have to drive 45 minutes to an auto parts store, use sign language and tears until I can get someone to help me find and buy the correct filter, drive another 15 minutes to wait in line for an hour (engine off no matter how hot or cold), and then, when I’m ready to run someone over, I finally get my turn in the waiting room. Last time it took them over an hour.

I get to do that today.

So yes, living here is awesome. And yes, I will move back to the states and be happy for my skinny, easy access, English speaking, large roadway, Jiffy Lube American way of life.

And just for the record, Europeans aren’t skinny. They’re just not obese. Kind of like me right now.