SFB (pardon my French)
Truly, we all try to be culturally sensitive here. Of course there are the numerous local customs- shake with your right hand, don’t walk between a prayer mat and mecca, never ever skip the long exchange of salutations. And within the expat community, with the myriads of mixed race and mixed nationality families, best to not make any assumptions or step on anybody’s allegiances. The one cultural group that has escaped the diplomatic world’s courtesy is the “Skinny French Bitch”. Pardonez-moi, but it’s vrai. You hear it all the time in conversation in even the uppermost diplomatic circles. As in….” Then, that Skinny French Bitch rammed her grocery cart over my ankles”. It’s the French who gave us the word clique. It’s the French moms at Allison’s school who clique together in the mornings after dropping off the little ones, assuming that the Americain moms couldn’t speak a mot of their language. It’s a wonder the French can manage to sell anything. That SFB running the Grain d’Or has nothing on the soup nazi. “Yes,” I plead, “would it be OK if I purchased a loaf of bread here at your boulangerie, or maybe that’s too weird of a request?” Books have been written about why the French women stay skinny. But, I ask, why so bitchy? Is it related? Is it that fueille that you allowed yourself to eat from the millefeuille ? Was it not enough? Please, I beg, have seconds.