Pregnant again

I am delighted to announce that, having had a baby in April, I am a few months pregnant with another baby.  Bilal and I planned have a large family for as long as marriage was on the cards and we are delighted that our heavenly Father has elected to bless us with another baby.

British and American women like to play the martyr regarding their post-pregnancy weight and tell everyone they could not help it.  As I demonstrated, it is entirely possible to be exactly the same weight before and after pregnancy: - I weighed myself on my wedding day and just after giving birth and there was no change.  A Frenchwoman knows how to eat properly and stay thin, whatever her stage of life, whether she be a growing adolescent, in her 20s prime of life (what Zoë Williams calls the "young filly" season), pregnancy, middle age, the menopause (presumably what Zoë Williams calls the "old bag" season), old age and even very old age (and the associated reduction in physical activity).  Regarding the last one , I am thinking of Jeanne Calment (from nearby Arles), who died aged 122, though admittedly, she only had one child (he died, as did his son, leaving her with no heirs).  She claimed to eat nearly 1kg of chocolate a week: - I would say that either old age affected her memory (in spite of claims she was mentally intact until the end), or she was prone to telling tall stories.  Unless she was abstaining from all other food, she would probably have become enormously fat: - as Mireille Guiliano pointed out, French women will normally carry round chocolate in their handbags and have a single square each day to give them their daily chocolate fix.

Our son tended to wake up several times during the night (though he started sleeping through the night aged six weeks) and the work involved with looking after him is generally about average for a small baby (a lot, in other words).  Bilal works in a safety-critical environment, so there is no question that his sleep is most important.  As well as taking care of his sleeping habits, he has been a very attentive father, including during the night.  He took the restrictions imposed on our lifestyle by parenthood in his stride, but then he has always been used to responsibility (the various children's ministries at the church, his family's livestock when in Mali etc).  Bilal has never been a male who lives a freewheeling bachelor lifestyle: - many men who have approached me have unfortunately been that way.  He has always been self-disciplined and this has served him well in life.  None of this treating life as one big party and going off on gap years, accomplishing nothing except clubbing and acquiring a cannabis addiction.  Maybe parenthood isn't quite such a drastic change if you are already used to responsibility?

With this in mind, Bilal wasted no time in expanding our family.  I wasn't checking, but I realised that some of the signs of pregnancy had arrived in the past week, so I went about properly confirming this.  Bilal was naturally delighted: - it is obvious that he has desired a big family throughout his life.  Bilal has always felt lonely as the only believer in his family and I am delighted that he is able to lead a growing believing household like this.

Of course, I plan to continue showing the world that a Frenchwoman has enough self-discipline to remain thin during pregnancy and still give birth to an entirely healthy baby.

More pointless diatribes

As many readers will know, I have a particular dislike of the British journalist Zoë Williams, who is somewhat covetous of the effortless perfection that we Frenchwomen possess.  She wrote a review of Mireille Guiliano's French Women Don't Get Facelifts.

Nobody (save for our Lord and Saviour) is perfect, but I particularly like the way Mireille Guiliano proclaims the effortless perfection of French women.  In this book, she tells the world how French women age well, choosing natural beauty over horrid facelifts.

It is not as if we Frenchwomen don't know anything about ageing.  French women tend to rank very highly in life expectancy tables.  According to the OECD, in 2013, only Japan and Spain had higher female figures (pun intended).  Many will be aware of Jeanne Calment, who lived her whole life in Arles, a town not too far from Marseille.  Some of the stories she told were a bit silly, e.g. eating 1kg of chocolate a week.  Any Frenchwoman will tell you that if you did this, you would be incredibly fat, especially given the reduced physical activity that comes with advancing age (unless one is very diligent).  Mireille Guiliano recommends a one-square fix of chocolate each day.

Many Anglo-Saxon women choose to have cosmetic surgery after giving birth, e.g. to remove surplus skin, stretch marks etc.  Having just had a baby, I know that it can be a challenge to avoid the changes to one's tummy, but it can be done.  If you look after your body, you can keep your skin supple and able to cope with the changes pregnancy brings.

I note the bitchy comment about the supposed contradiction between not spending a lot on vitamins, but spending money on Bottega Veneta.  A Frenchwoman knows that nature is best when it comes to food and real natural stuff does not come at great cost.  However, when one buys fashion, one pays for the skill of the designer.  Granted, there are some deviations to this rule, but generally, you get what you pay for in the word of fashion.

I also disagree with the comment that watching one's weight and receiving admiring glances are a betrayal of feminism.  Readers will be aware of my desire to allow Bilal to build our family in the image of the Bible (with the husband as the head).  Zoë Williams would say the Bible oppresses women, to which I would say that she doesn't know about the very capable businesswoman in Proverbs 31, but anyway.  A Frenchwoman knows that it is possible to both look good and do well in life, be this one's career, business, politics etc.  Segolène Royal was, as Bilal would say, well buff (though far less so than me).  Granted, she lost to Nicolas Sarkozy, but in my opinion, that was because she promoted socialist policies which France did not need.  Mireille Guiliano was the CEO of Veuve Cliquot before her retirement and she wrote all these books showing the world how wonderful we Frenchwomen are.  Who says such women have betrayed the feminist revolution?

I always find Zoë Williams' francophobic diatribes funny and I particularly loved her rant in the last two paragraphs about Mireille Guiliano playing, as I understand things, a Borat-style naïve foreigner.  However, when I finished laughing, I thought to myself, why doesn't she just face up to the fact that we Frenchwomen know how to be beautiful and live life to the fullest?

I'm engaged

Today, Bilal made a proposal of marriage!  This is something I have been eagerly awaiting for several months and I can now announce that it has finally happened!  I accepted without hesitation.  Bilal and I are very different people, but I appreciate his exotic nature, with him being a mix of Touareg and hip-hop influences.  This is evident in his language usage and clothing.  He is definitely my tall, dark (and heavily-built) stranger.

Bilal has moved into my parents' home (readers will note that I live in my own flat a short distance from the Vieux Port).  The reason for this is to adapt him to French culture a little bit more, as I have no willingness to live in La Savine, even if a top-floor flat would offer fantastic views of Marseille and the Mediterranean Sea.  Such a rough gangsta area is not appealing to a sophisticated haute couture Frenchwoman such as myself.  I would get tired of people greeting me by saying "Wesh-wesh toubab?" ("Wagwan honky?")  For some reason, Bilal never looks entirely at ease when in some more typically French areas in a way that he did in Mali (I cannot vouch for what he is like in La Savine, having never been there) and often appears homesick.

In the longer term, we are wondering about what sort of arrangements will be most agreeable to us.  One option we are considering is purchasing a livestock farm that would enable Bilal to feel at home.  Although the Common Agricultural Policy allows French farmers to get away with many backward and inefficient agricultural practices (hey, I suppose some compromises are necessary to produce the pure and natural products that a Frenchwoman desires), they are still a world apart from Touareg practices.  Another possibility is for us to construct a mountain home in the mountains to the north and east of Marseille to allow him to life a hill farmer lifestyle when he is not at work.  If anyone has any suggestions, please e-mail me at mariannegaboriault@gmail.com : - we are looking for countryside that is as rugged as Bilal is, MDR!

Even if we struggle to find somewhere that causes Bilal to feel completely at home, Bilal has told me he is willing to endure feelings of homesickness for the rest of his life in order to be with me, adding that I am "une femeu bien faite" (French for "a well fit bird") even by French standards: - obviously, when he is living with my parents, they will attempt to smooth some of his rough edges.  Bilal was never a macho man, but he has spent so much time around people who speak in this manner that he uses such words as if they were normal words.  He managed to restrain himself for job and university interviews, but found it too tiring to keep up a pretence beyond that.  This is partly why he tends to gravitate towards tasks that involve doing things in the background at work: - he can prove himself by the quality of his outputs and is unlikely to be obstructed by his hip-hop use of language.  At university, he would just turn up for lectures, practical assessments etc and just go home again afterwards to do his study: - he did very well academically and he was very diligent with his studies, but he never had any interest in being involved in the extracurricular life of his university, as he never really felt at home with the white middle-class liberal atheistic students the way he does in da 'hood or at church.  He feels at home at church because he knows that in this world, we are to regard ourselves as merely sojourners and if a church is a sound church, it is the closest experience a believer will have to the world to come.  Obviously, the wedding will take place in our own church (not the one shown below).

Obviously, given my obsession with food and Bilal's coeliac disease, we will need to expend a lot of thought about what food will be served at the wedding.  It will not be nice for me to have to share a marital bed with Bilal if the food served at the wedding has caused him bowel problems, MDR.  Unless a gluten-free croquembouche is available, we may unfortunately have to have an Anglo-Saxon style wedding cake.  Maybe we could have something along the lines of Mireille Guiliano's flourless chocolate cake?  Bilal is awfully fond of this recipe, but given that it is a recipe Mireille Guiliano approves of, presumably I shouldn't worry, MDR.

I think Bilal will look absolutely gorgeous in a morning suit, but he doesn't like suits and as far as I'm aware, the only time he has ever worn one in his life was for his job interview with the "Trom de Marseille" (as he and his homies call it in Verlan, MDR).  He is very fond of his Touareg attire and some of this looks gorgeous upon him though, especially the bright indigo garments.  Because he is such a handsome man, being around him requires a greater amount of self-restraint and I am pleased that with our engagement, the amount of time I will have tocontinue to exercise this self-restraint is getting shorter.

I will be looking for the most beautiful bridal dress I can find.  Apart from the fact that I am the bee's knees and worthy of the best, it would not do for a fashion magazine editor to turn up for her own wedding in an unfashionable bridal gown.  This will be my biggest worry when it comes to wedding preparations (apart from possible legal hiccups obstructing the legal validity, e.g. the registrar being sick on the day of the wedding).  However, as I have always been dainty in my eating, I will certainly not have to worry about how my figure will look in the dress as lesser women do!  All I can say is roll on the wedding day!

Being fat is a sign of stupidity

Och, ah jist read aboot a study in Scotland sayin' that fowk wha' dinnae keep their figures in check dinnae dae sae well in exams the noo!  Translation for those of us who don't understand this corrupted form of English: - "I just read about a study in Scotland saying that people who don't keep their figures in check don't do so well in exams".  http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-26523602

This is a very diplomatic way of saying that being fat is a sign of stupidity.  During my time living in the UK and my various travels in the Anglo-Saxon world, it gradually became increasingly clear to me that Anglo-Saxon women are in fact stupid.  When I speak with such women, they often tell me about their ridiculous dieting strategies.  Since they tend to tell me such things over business lunches (during which I will always say, "La moitié, s'il vous plaît", unless it is a buffet, in which case, I take food to suit my own stomach), it is normally necessary for me to be diplomatic.  If I weren't constrained by the need to be diplomatic, I would tell them how idiotic they were.

I know of one American woman who tried the diet mentioned in "The Devil Wears Prada" (eating nothing at all and then eating a cube of cheese when close to fainting).  She lasted about three days on the diet and the next time I saw her, she had gone from obese to morbidly obese.  As Mireille Guiliano points out, any regimen you can't maintain for life is bound to fail you.  Granted, French cheese (the cheese in the picture below is Banon, from the eponymous Provençale town, a.k.a. Banon à la feuille) is so delicious that it can satisfy with a single cube, but the diet described removes pretty much all of life's pleasure.

I have also seen countless examples of Anglo-Saxon women having only a green salad at lunchtime (though often covered in very sugary dressings) and then snacking all the way through the afternoon.  Similarly, many women much fatter than myself proudly tell me that they have skipped breakfast, yet by mid-morning, they are munching on disgusting-looking preservative-laden muffins!  When will Anglo-Saxon women wake up and realise their own stupidity?

There is nothing particularly complicated about how we Frenchwomen manage to stay pencil-thin.  These are a few of the main rules (though we admittedly have a few other tricks): -
1)  The three main reasons why French women are so thin are portion control, portion control and portion control: - practice saying "La moitié, s'il vous plaît" several times a day
2)  Only eat food of the highest quality: - get your jollies from your taste buds, not from your stomach being stretched
3)  No snacking
4)  Only make desserts as sweet as they need to be to cleanse your palate of the previous course: - excessively sweet desserts are characteristic of bumpkins and minimally sweet desserts are characteristic of stylish Frenchwomen
5)  Passive exercise: - my mother won't consider using the lift unless her destination is at least 10 floors away and the figure for me is 20 floors, not forgetting to walk everywhere as well, though Paris-Marseille at almost 750km is a little too far even for me!
6)  Slim-fitting high-quality fashion: - if a woman finds herself struggling to fit into her clothes, she will have an extra source of motivation to be dainty in her eating
7)  Living in a society where a trim figure is necessary for success: - I despair when I hear the phrase, "It's not what's on the outside, it's what's on the inside", as it can cause women to become demotivated and lazy about keeping their weight down, like Anglo-Saxon women
8)  Only doing vigorous pursuits if they bring pleasure: - maybe this means hillwalking, maybe this means tennis, à chacun son goût, but make sure it is pleasurable
9)  Only eating chocolate if it is above 60% cocoa: - only really stupid people consume chocolate with lower cocoa proportions, as the difference is often made up with sugar and it doesn't have the same filling effect
10)  Taking care of one's appearance: - if one takes pride in one's appearance, one will not want to spoil it by overeating (even when a Frenchwoman is "in the field", she will always have at least two lipsticks, one for the day and one for the evening)
11)  Making sure to read fashion magazines promoting beanpole-thin figures as the ideal: - one's standards should always be set high
12)  Not watching television excessively: - there is always some scouring to be done in markets for the choicest ingredients
13)  Not making ridiculous excuses about one's weight: - occasionally, people have differences when it comes to metabolism rates (e.g. Bilal's coeliac disease causing him to have malabsorption problems, meaning he has an enormous appetite), but I am tired of hearing gormless Anglo-Saxon women justify their huge waistlines with excuses such as genetics, being big-boned etc

It is time Anglo-Saxon women stopped coming up with all these fad diets (Atkins, South Beach, Beverley Hills etc).  The only fad diet (if one would call it that) that has any basis in reality when it comes to becoming and remaining thin is the Okinawan habit of "hara hachi bu" ("eat until you are 8/10 full"), which is a variant of the French teaching of only eating food of the highest quality in the daintiest quantities.  Anglo-Saxon women, stop being stupid, pretending that you have the faintest idea about how to be beanpole-thin and slavishly replicate the impossibly perfect example that we Frenchwomen set!

Effortless perfection means exercise without trying

One thing that helps make we Frenchwomen impossibly and effortlessly perfect is our tendency to walk or take the stairs where practical.  Just like Mireille Guiliano, I cannot understand the American tendency to drive to the gym and put oneself through endless pain and then eat like a pig, thereby making the time in the gym wasted.

I completely share Mireille's disdain for the American idea of "no pain no gain".  A French woman's aim in life is to have as much pleasure as possible.  A French woman, in her effortless perfection, gains great pleasure from delicious morsels of food, savouring every bite.  Given the famous restaurant scene with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal in Katz's Delicatessen in Nuu Yawk in "When Harry met Sally", even American women should know very well that it is possible to gain pleasure from food to the extent that one emits strange moans and groans!  I make similar noises when I consume a piece of chocolate that is 85% cocoa or higher!  For this reason, I tend to consume the 85%-plus varieties of chocolate only when I am alone, so as to save attracting attention!

The fundamental rule of losing weight is that the calories that enter our body must be fewer in number than the calories leaving our system.  With this in mind, there are only two ways to achieve this negative balance of calories: - exercise more or eat less.  A Frenchwoman knows that the latter is by far the most effective strategy.

When it comes to exercise, there are two points that a Frenchwoman knows.

Firstly, if one eats like a pig, then it is necessary to do ever more exercise to look like an impossibly perfect Frenchwoman.  A Frenchwoman loves being active, but she knows that she will hate active pursuits if she has to do them just to stay thin.  Therefore, what a Frenchwoman does is eat foods of the highest quality in the daintiest quantities so that exercise she does do tends to be for pleasure only.  As I say, a Frenchwoman goes out of her way to make sure she has as much pleasure as possible.

Secondly, the exception to that rule is passive exercise.  A Frenchwoman will try and fit as much exercise as possible into her normal routine.  When I lived in London when I was building up my career in the fashion magazine industry, I got tired of all the disapproving stares I got from overweight colleagues when I walked distances they would take public transport for or when I took the stairs in situations when they would take the lift!  Stupid people!  If they paid attention to the things a Frenchwoman just instinctively knows, they wouldn't be so fat!  This article concentrates on passive exercise.

When I receive American guests in Marseille who arrive via the train station (train travel is a bit "ye olde worlde" for them until they see how sophisticated we French are in this area), if they don't insist on taking a taxi to the Vieux Port for me to introduce them to the various cafés selling pastis, they will at the very least insist on taking the metro!  As for me personally, I have never used the metro (which has been in operation since 1977) and I don't plan to.  It is not that I dislike trains in any way (though I generally think the idea of a rubber-tyre metro is bonkers), but the distances covered by the metro are a long way within distances I would walk.  Ditto the tram system.  Maybe the metro and tram systems were built just for the tourists?

I also like to introduce people to the Calanques.  I like to walk all the way to the Calanques around les Goudes sometimes, but if someone is staying in Marseille only briefly, the walk there and back can take out a big chunk of the time.  This is where "Le vélo" comes in: - this is Marseille's equivalent of Boris Bikes and its arrival in 2007 pre-dates Boris Bikes by a long time.  There is something very French about riding a bike (and wearing a stripey jumper and a beret and having some onions in a string over one's shoulder, MDR).  Not surprisingly, as although Karl Drais (a German) invented the Laufmaschine (powered by the rider using a walking motion), Pierre Michaux, Pierre Lallement and the Olivier brothers invented what seems to be the first example of what we know of as a bicycle, given that it was pedal-driven, in the 1860s.  Also, the Michaux company was the first to mass-produce what was then known as the velocipede.  Anyway, I digress.  American visitors tend to want to take a taxi to see the Calanques, but I find that rather silly.  One would have to be super-unfit to take a taxi in preference to a bike to get there.

Granted, I tend to take the TGV when I travel to Paris, as the journey is almost 750km, which is a little impractical for walking.  Also, London-Paris is around 450km, but one is not allowed to walk inside the Channel Tunnel, MDR.

I also can't understand why unfit American guests who visit my home insist on taking the "ellllllevadorrrrrrrrrrrr".  They tend to be puffed out after the first floor.  I have sometimes made the mistake of asking American guests to help me carry shopping home on the way back from the station and up to my penthouse flat: - these people are used to doing this by car.  I love to share with people the delights of the pine smell in hot weather on the hill on which Notre Dame de la Garde, but if someone is that unfit, they aren't going to keep up with me and Americans don't know how to appreciate simple pleasures in life anyway.

Americans like to look disapprovingly at me when I say that I refuse to set foot in a gym, but they don't realise how fit French women are on account of exercise built into their routine such as walking and using the stairs.  In their stupidity, they pay huge sums of money to get an effect that we French women get for free.  American and British women should look to our example of seeking maximum pleasure in all we do: - training ourselves to be full on as little food as possible so that we can afford to only set out to do vigorous pursuits when they give us pleasure.

Misperceptions about French women being chainsmokers

One thing that bothers me considerably about the perceptions English and American people have of we French women is that we are only slim because we smoke like chimneys, mentioning that tobacco causes appetite-suppressing effects.  This is nonsense.  There are various reasons why a French woman is able to feel full on very little food.   Firstly, her taste buds are able to discern the finest flavours and, if she follows this up by eating them, she gets her jollies primarily from the taste, rather than her stomach being stretched (as is the case with gluttonous American and British women), causing her to feel full.  Secondly, France contains only the finest ingredients and recipes, combined with innately capable chefs, making this possible.  I must point out that smoking is most unattractive to my way of thinking.

I recall Zoë Williams' article that I discussed in an earlier posting, where she said words to the effect that rather than rant like she was doing, a Frenchwoman would light up another fag and say, "bof".  According to data at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prevalence_of_tobacco_consumption , the smoking rates in the USA are 26.3% and 21.5%, in the UK, they are 36.7% and 34.7% and 36.6% and 26.7% in France for men and women respectively.  Granted, American data seems to be significantly lower, though it appears the smoking rates for British women are higher than for French women.  

However, there is a huge difference in the obesity rate in France, according to the CIA's statistics at https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/rankorder/2228rank.html , which says that the USA's figure is 33%, the UK's figure is 26.9% and France's figure is a paltry 18.2%!  Now, one could argue that there are lies, damned lies and statistics, but the suggestion that French women are only slim because they smoke so much is untrue: - firstly, it is not backed up by data and secondly, it is just an excuse for gluttonous American and British women to gorge themselves on gigantic quantities of food endlessly and avoid taking responsibility for being disgustingly obese.

I have some advice for such people: - slavishly replicate the French way of life so you can be effortlessly perfect like Frenchwomen.  I have often mentioned my English mother.  She openly admits that she was disgustingly overweight in her teenage years because she ate gigantic quantities of low quality food.  She went on family holidays to France, though she didn't lose any weight then because she was still in her substandard English eating habits.  However, she went to France on a week-long exchange visit with her secondary school during Year 10 (the year one attends in Britain when one is 14/15 years old).  Though a week is not long enough to burn off huge quantities of flab, she lost a notable amount of weight in that week alone.  She enjoyed that week so much that she asked if her exchange family would allow her to stay over her school's summer holidays: - her host family was immediately enthusiastic, as it greatly enjoyed her company.  Her parents were initially reluctant, but she pestered them endlessly to agree to this until they caved in.  She then spent her summer holidays in France and when she returned home, her father said, "You look like you're suffering from anorexia or bulimia!"  

Silly Grandad!  He didn't know that my mother's stay in France was the making of her as an effortlessly perfect Frenchwoman.  When my mother was back in England, she was constantly lecturing her family members about how to cook properly and they grew grumpy, because hey, the truth hurts!  Her French teacher was very pleased with her greatly improved performance though and scored the top grade in O-level French, going on to study French as part of her A-levels, again scoring the top grade.  By the time she was halfway through her A-levels, she decided she was fed up of backward British attitudes and the general lack of sophistication, so she applied to French universities.  The day she received her A-level results was the happiest day of her life, as her grades were more than good enough to get into her choice of university (in Marseille) and she was able to kiss goodbye to her unsophisticated homeland.  She occasionally returned for important family events, such as weddings, funerals etc, but after departing for Marseille, she never returned to Britain for any length of time.

In other words, it is quite possible to be impossibly thin and perfect like a Frenchwoman: - my mother is testament to the fact that being impossibly perfect is possible.  As mentioned in an earlier posting, she only eats the daintiest quantities of the highest quality of food and she will not take the lift or escalator unless her destination is at least 10 floors away.  Also, she gains huge pleasure from eating dark chocolate and finds chocolate with less than 60% cocoa repulsive.  She knows French cheeses inside out and can identify pretty much every French wine by its taste alone.  She does everything in Mireille Guiliano's French Women's Manifesto.  And she doesn't smoke.

To all the American and British women reading this posting, stop using the nonsensical idea that French women smoke all the time as an excuse for not accepting responsibility for your weight and be effortlessly perfect like we Frenchwomen!