Apparently, France is fattening at about the same rate as America (“France following the path of the United States,” runs the headline. Otherwise, all you may get from this is a nice picture of a fat woman’s derriere).
How did we get to this point, you ask? Was it the Normandy butter, the four thousand cheeses, the morning pastries? No, it was fast food, apparently. But guess what, Frenchies: it doesn’t affect you if you don’t eat it. (Image that springs to mind: Count Borgel, moqueur des americains, a soft, pasty 18-year-old I lived with last year. Ate entire pizzas and wore Armani to cover his paunch while he sat in front of the TV and complained to me about the American reportage he was watching in which the obesity of Texans was duly noted)
If nothing else, our largesse has gotten to them at last.
Interesting that the woman shown there is in Norman dairy country. They can blame fast food all they want, but the French don’t have the phrase “cul de la laitière” for nothin’.
I’m still not sure how I didn’t gain enormous amounts of weight while living there.
Yeah, me neither. Oh, wait. I didn’t have a car. I walked everywhere.