Many have looked at me with envy, jealous of all the fabulous French food I have been consuming by the bucketload. All the French cheeses, the brains of baby cows, the coq au vin, and other glorious foodstuffs that the most romantic and food obsessed place in the world has to offer.
However, it comes with a heavy price.
And when I say heavy, I mean literally.
Consider the following scenario....
Last week I was at the local H&M, looking for some nice summery things to wear and once I have selected some bits and pieces, headed for the dressing room queue to try them on.
While I was daydreaming (probably about food), one of the girls working the dressing room passed me by with armloads of clothes to return to the racks. Upon seeing me, she stopped in her tracks and says "Vous avez priorite" (you have priority).
I was surprised to hear that, seeing as there were two ladies ahead of me in the queue. Sensing my confusion, she decides to clear things up.
"Parce que vous etes enceinte"
In horror, I said, "No, I am NOT pregnant".
Now stop for a second and consider this scenario. If you were the (wretched) girl, what would you do?
You would think you would apologize and backtrack, wouldn't you?
Nope. This being France, land of stubborn people refusing to believe that they are ever in the wrong, she decides instead to say, nodding at the general direction of my belly,
"On dirais qu'il y a un bebe la dedans"
Not enough with insulting me with the pregnancy comment, she digs in more by saying that you'd think I had a baby in there before sauntering off with her arm full of clothes.
As I turned beet red, I couldn't help but instinctively look down at my belly. Upon looking up, I noticed that the two ladies behind and two ladies in front were also checking out my belly.
Yep, humiliation at the hands of the H&M dressing room girl is a hard, hard pill to swallow. And even more painful to digest.