Julia

Dear women of France,

After nine months of your dirty looks and whispers I believe it is time to simply come out and address the obvious issue at hand.

I am not the enemy for having boobs. Nor am I a slut of epic proportions. I am simply a woman – tits and ass included. So in other words a real one. And obviously, no offense, not a French one.

To be fair, you bitches are tall and skinny. Everything fits you. You could wear a potato sack and it would still look oh so sexy on your waify (read hungry) body. Your pout is extra sexy because of your sunken in cheeks, you always look good in pictures, and walking to the nearest café is all the exercise you need to stay “fit”.

You got it easy. God gave me curves. Which also means he condemned me to a life at the gym making sure curvy doesn’t transition to fat. I have to watch what I eat, I have to work out 5 to 6 days a week on actual machines for at least an hour that cause me to (gasp) sweat, and to look really good for those special occasions where dreaded pictures are being taken I have to wear Spanx. Don’t know what those are do you? Didn’t think so…


So you see, it’s not my fault. But if it makes you feel better, I’m sorry. I am sorry if the sight of my curves causes the men at your table to turn their heads and look for just a little too long.

You can’t really blame them. They know you’re wearing a padded bra and adolescent jeans. Sometimes a man needs to know that real women exist and I happen to be one of them. Be a trooper and let them have a look. It’s just the testosterone. Men were made to plant their seed and a curvy body is like an exquisite piece of land they can’t ignore. Even if they can’t take advantage of it, they are inclined to want it, appreciate it, and tend to it.