Teresa Giudice - Skinny Italian: Eat It and Enjoy It

2. The Cornerstones of Italian Cuisine
(or Things Not Found at The Olive Garden)

4. Italian Seasonings:
Whats What and Whos Who

The first thing people usually say to me when they find out I have four kids is that they could never tell from my body. I thank them, thinking this is a compliment, only to be quickly proven wrong. Follow-up questions immediately include: What diet plan are you on?, Do you live in the gym?, and my favorite, Whats the name of your plastic surgeon?

If you watched the first season of The Real Housewives of New Jersey , you know I was brave (or maybe crazy) enough to allow Bravo to film me going through the process of getting my bubbies done. If you saw me in the leopard-print bikini, you are totally on my side on this one. I worried, I cried, I kvetched, I kept changing my mind... because this was the first surgery Id ever had in my life.

I swear on Us magazine, I have never had lipo, a tummy tuck, a mommy makeover, or even a C-section. All of my children were born the old-fashioned way: with lots of pushing, screaming, cursing, and, thank God, pain medication. I am a big fan of the epidural. Big knives near my body? Not so much.

I must exercise religiously then, right? Our lady of the heavens, no! I have four little ones to chase after; I barely have time for a manicure. We dont have a workout room in our house (unless you count the bedroom, which I do... ). I dont have a personal trainer or yoga master or whatever. I have no strict exercise regimen, although Ill admit, I like how I feel after I work out. But its not my thing. Id rather enjoy life with my kids than live in a gym.

And, let me assure you, I eat. I freakin love food. Always have. Always will. Food is an integral part of my life and the lives of my family and friends. Its how we communicate, how we love, how we laugh. Food is our second language. Its lovingly prepared, shared, toasted, savored, slathered (you read that right), and occasionally, if you push my buttons, thrown. Food is such a sensual pleasure. The thought of shoving your fingers into freshly made dough, of licking the dripping tomato sauce off the spoon... Im making it sound like a giant aphrodisiac, and as I sit here, looking at the four beautiful kids Joe and I created, Im thinking maybe it is.

Eating is definitely one of the greatest joys on earth, and I wouldnt give it up for anything. My mother, who never dieted a day in her life, used to shake her head and say, Think of those poor women on the Titanic who refused dessert!

In other words: life is short; pass the cannoli.

Ill admit, before I was on TV, I never thought so much about my own body and the way I eat. You think youve spent your entire adolescence in front of the mirror, but until youre cornered at Costco with curious fans literally picking through your cart to see what youre buying, you have no idea. Its bizarre. Suddenly, everyone wants the skinny on my ass.

And honestly, I dont blame them (although, if you see me, please keep your hands off my fresh vegetablesthat kind of skieves me out). I like to know what my friends eat. Im interested in Oprahs favorite foods. Actually, I like Gayles picks better; girlfriend knows how to enjoy her food!

And everything about food and nutrition in this country has become a big confusing mess. Is Splenda safe? Nutrasweet? Olestra? Which one gives you the runs? Seriously, somebody tell me because I am not having that.

Whats in one day is out the next. Remember when eggs were the enemy? Now, theyre fine. For a while, you were supposed to eat lots of meatwas that the Atkins, Pritikin, or caveman diet?then suddenly, meat wasnt okay. Now, half the experts say you need protein at every meal, and half say you dont need it ever. Milk was bad, then it was good, then it was even better because it was supposed to help you lose weight. Now Ive heard its going back on the bad list. Too bad, because my girls drink milk, milk, milk all day long, and theres no chance Im stopping them. They love it! Me too.

Even the government and all those nutritional experts dont know whats what, since they had to change their little nutrition pyramid guide into some weird triangle thing that nobody understands.

Like you, I have more than one friend whos been on so many different food plans, shes completely forgotten how to eat. Jill pours salt over her food to make herself stop eating. Ive actually found Leah picking brownie crust out of her trash can. And Heidi went to a no-carbs boot camp and went so crazy, I had to block her number from my cell phone until she promised to eat a piece of bread.

Im not a nutritionist or food scientist or a fancy chef. Im just like you: a regular girl with two eyes and a brain and enough common sense not to buy any of this crap. Ive always loved my body, and Ive been eating the exact same way since the day I was born. I can tell you in two words why I can eat, eat, eat and still look fabulous: Italian food.

Both of my parents were born and raised in Italy. I was actually conceived there right before my parents moved to America in 1971. (My ma didnt even know she was pregnant. She just wondered why her clothes kept getting tighter.) My brother and I grew up in Paterson, New Jersey, but inside our house, it might as well have been Salerno. We ate real Italian foodnot the bastardized fast-food version of itevery single day. My ma shopped at the farmers market and the local Italian grocery to make sure she could get the same little envelopes of spices and secret ingredients from home. Real Italian food uses olive oil, not heavy cream. We grill and saut; we dont bread, dunk, and deep-fry. And we use fresh ingredients, not stuff floating in formaldehyde (I know canned foods dont really have formaldehyde in them, but all those preservatives and artificial flavorings are still like poison to your body).

You and I both know gorgeous Italian women who are skinny not because they eat healthy Italian food, but because they starve themselves. But thats the exception, not the rule. You can find neurotic people who obsess about food from any ethnicity. (Bethenny, honey, you really want me to order a steak and only eat three bites of it? Are you freakin kidding me?) Need proof that Italian women who cook and eat up a storm of true Italian food can still have fabulous figures? Google Giada De Laurentiis, drool for a minute, and then come back to me.