I discussed some of my struggle with body image and weight loss back at the beginning of the year.  Since I wrote that post I regained 75% of the weight I’d lost and then on September 1 I decided I’d had it with this yo yo diet crap and being a lard ass in general (or maybe it had something to do with the fact that we had to put air in my bike tires twice in August and a few weeks ago my back tire….you know, the one taking the brunt of my fat ass…went flat. Coincidence? I think not). Anyway, I started using Sparkpeople.com (huge thanks to Jen for that) on the first of September and since then I’ve lost about 13 pounds, so now I’m back where I was in April.  I’m trying to take it week by week, cause knowing that realistically I won’t be where I want to be until February is an easy way to end up eating a whole pizza for dinner with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s for dessert.

I imagine by now you’re wondering what me being uberflubbery (this one’s mine, it’s not Dutch) has to do with my title.

Well, this is the thing; Belgians (in general) are friggin beanpoles, man.  Seriously.
Most of the Belgians I see day to day on the street are probably in a size 2-8 range (that’s American women’s sizing…men are often anywhere from slim to barely visible in universal man sizing). And okay, it’s true that people here are typically more active and walk or cycle a lot more than in the U.S. I also tend to see more people drinking water rather than soda (although fruit juice over here is still apparently considered healthy, despite the fact that it’s a veritable nuclear holocaust of sugar and empty carbs if it’s been processed by anyone besides yourself or an organic hippy health company….nothing against those, I love them, they just don’t figure into a tight budget).

But at the same time it’s not a rare thing to see one of those super skinny chicks clopping down the cobblestones in her chic boots and scarf (two must have pieces of clothing if you live in Flanders and no I have no boots and only a functional wool scarf) and stuffing her face hole with fries slathered in mayonnaise from a greasy paper funnel.
Or taking a big old bite of a chocolate covered waffle while waiting for the next tram.
Beer is served with lunch here (even in some schools and universities) and a skinny-as-a-stick man can often be seen sipping a Jupiler on the train ride home from work.

So I wondered why.

Why do I eat a single peanut and gain 2 pounds while Little Miss Slinky McSlenderlegs gets to nosh on croissant covered worsten (sausages) with nary a hip dimple?

This week I was given the answer.

Because. Belgium? Is dumb.

Yes, the secret of slim Belgians is the dumbness of their country.

For example, I got a student working card back in April and it is good until October 31.  CB and I decided it won’t kill me to work through the third week of November at the call center for some extra cash and therefore I have to renew my work card.  You’d think that’d be simple, right? I mean, I have it, it’s dated this year so obviously I’ve already done the paperwork for it, plus it’s the exact same kind of card so really, you’d think they could just stamp a renewal date on it and I’d be good to go, yes?

Common sense dictating that the process ought to be relatively simple, yesterday I took my already existing work card, my identity card and my wallet with other forms of ID and I biked the 2k or so over to the VDAB (Vaamse Dienst voor Arbeids Bemiddeling=Flemish Service for Labor Mediation).  According to the sign that said “take a number at the front desk, I stopped and asked the secretary at the front desk if I could have a number for the work card office and she handed it to me, without saying anything. I then went to wait for the person who could renew my card but on the way I saw that there was another sign that said I needed a copy of my identity card for a work card…no copy, no card.

So I went to Front Desk Lady and asked if I could speak English.  She nodded and I asked if I had to have a copy before I could see the office person for a work card.  She said yes so I asked her where I could find a place to make a copy (keep in mind I was looking over her shoulder at the VDAB xerox machine) and she directed me to Sleepstraat.  So I got lost on my way over there and had to call CB who looked online and found a map to get me to the right street.  Once I was on that street I saw two copy shops and both were closed: one for good and one for vacation.  I biked down the length of Sleepstraat, which magically turned into another street after a while, so I turned left and tried cycling back the way I came but parallel to Sleepstraat to avoid traffic and the tram lines (not fun to get your bike wheel stuck in a tram rail in the street).  Well, I lost track of where I needed to turn to get back to the original street I was on, then there was a detour around construction and I ended up on the other side of the city center by the castle.  It started to rain and I looked at my watch, which read 11:00 and the VDAB closes for lunch at 11:30.  Seeing as I had yet to find an open copy shop and I was getting cold and wet I biked the 2k back home, kept warm only by an envelope of red rage.

So I had a better plan today.  I woke up early and biked another 2k or so to Top Copy (a copy shop, but totally not near where I was yesterday) to get my syllabus and reading materials for class.  I went in and asked where I could buy class syllabi and the woman said it was upstairs.  So I went upstairs, got my syllabi and asked if I could pay up there.  The guy said yes but when I pulled out my debit card (I guess students only pay with cash here?) he said I had to pay downstairs with it.  So down I went and while I was there I got my ID copied (in your face Front Desk Lady).  Afterwards (with, like, 10 pounds worth of developmental psych articles in tow) I went back to the VDAB and again asked Front Desk Lady for a number.  She gave it to me and I went to go wait.  But the lady in the office motioned me in.  She filled out some papers and told me I had to take them to the town hall (a.k.a Hostile Immigrant Fortress of DOOOOM).  Basically I have to go do the exact same papers I did to get the original work card…so it’s sort of like I’d never done it in the first place cause I still have to go through the same inconvenience from the first time (only CB did most of it the first time…but it’s the principle here people).  I pulled out my copy and handed it to her and she told me I didn’t need the copy of my identity card till after the town hall completed the papers.  Then she also told me that next time I didn’t have to take a number, I could just come right in.

Yeah.

So I headed off to the town hall (but not before attempting to boil Front Desk Lady’s lying guts out with my psychic evil eye lasers). Upon arrival I took a number (150).  They had been open for 2 hours and were on number 30 so I went and got a coffee, bought a new scarf and checked back in an hour.  They were on 62 and I had class in a few hours.  Right, so I decided my best bet as to wake up even earlier tomorrow morning, get there in time for a sane numbered ticket, get the papers finished, take them back to the VDAB and start the month long process of renewing my working card.  Oh, and in December when my status changes? I get to do it all over again!

So you see… 3 days and about 10 kilometers of dealing with what should be a relatively simple 20 minute procedure…

I can feel the skinny creeping up on me already!

Man, I could use a Jupiler…