Writing Again

Someone complained that I don't write enough in my blog. He remarked that it is a very good procrastination tool and he's right because I should be studying for my test today but I can't concentrate. So I blogged.

I got to spend this weekend alone again, with the apartment all to myself. That was nice. Romain didn't feed the cats before he left this morning, meaning they flipped out at me. That boy is so frustrating. And rude. Grr.

The weather has been fairly crappy lately and doesn't look to be improving until Friday, which is fortunate for my mother because that's when she'll be arriving.

I had a dream about one of those giant warehouse stores like Costco. Me and the others at the institute were being taken on a tour. I think it means I miss America. Oh well. 32 days.

French Women Aren't Fat

While that's not true across the board, one cannot deny that French women, in general, are a whole lot skinnier than American women. While the average American woman is 5'4'' and 164 lbs (BMI 28.1), the average French woman is about 5'3'' and 137 lbs (BMI 24.3). The average American woman is borderline obese and the average French woman is on the higher end of healthy weight.

Why am I mentioning this? Because I've been noticing this difference. In America, I'm not big at all. I'm in a nice middle range, where the girl walking around in size 00 pants is a minority and you know that the women the media portrays are nothing like the women in everyday life.

But here, those skinny women on TV are just walking down the street in chic clothes and heels, not only dressing better than I do on a regular basis (another Frenchism) but looking thinner and more attractive. In a group of girls, it's not the skinny girl who stands out, but the girl you wouldn't even think as "chubby" in the US who does.

Basically, my point is, that this all makes me feel insecure. I will never have slim legs or small hips, my arms are a little chubby up top, but my waist is generally slim and I have a nice back and I'm pretty, but goddamnit, I still feel insecure. Not to mention the fact that I've been eating more than I usually do here. I don't really like my host mom's food too much and in the US I'm used to eating just whenever I feel like it without having to worry about scheduled meals. However, eating whenever I feel like it and then having to sit down to a dinner means I'm eating at least one extra meal per day. It's better now that I'm just pretty much sucking it up and cutting out superfluous eating (or replacing the Nutella toast with fruit) but I won't be as skinny as most any French girl I pass.

It's just GETTING to me. I don't want comments telling me to work out or eat better (not that I think I've been writing in this often enough for people to bother to keep on checking it), I just want to write this all out and complain for a bit. Complain about how I feel fat, even though I know I'm not fat, and actually look better than most of the people I know who work out.

And that's all that really matters, how I feel. (And whether or not I'm healthy, which my doctor says I am, even if I can't run a six minute mile. Or a seven minute mile, probably.) I dunno. Maybe I'll take the time to dance around my room more often. That's a fairly aerobic activity, especially with dance music today.

Apparently Spring comes in the second week of March in the South of France.

As I type to you, my faithful readers, I am sitting on my host family's balcony/patio and it is seventy degrees, the sky is a lovely shade of blue and I'm wearing shorts. Today is a fruit kind of day. By which I mean, all I want to eat are plums but I only have one left. Regardless, I shall enjoy it.

Unfortunately for me, today a bird pooped on me. Thankfully, I was only two minutes from the institute and so I quickly ran back and washed up, much to the amusement of Cali and Laura who were with me.

All the French people laughed at me.

But honestly, today is really nice and unspoiled, despite the birds.

I have decided that I HATE my host brother. He is annoying, loud, rude and he talks too fast. Not only is he loud in the sense that he makes a lot of noise, he'll SCREAM. Like a whining cat. For no reason at all. He's obnoxious and I am sick of hearing him be a smart-ass. I'm sick of him thinking I'm stupid just because he speaks a mile a minute. I can't understand anyone in French when they speak a mile a minute, not to mention his retainer makes it even more difficult to understand him.

And he TORTURES his cat, Biscuit. You can hear her trying to escape him, whining and crying, and he just laughs. He thinks it's the funniest thing in the world, to make this cat miserable.

If he were my brother, I'd hit him. All the time. Until he learned not to be such a jackass or until he went braindead and lost the ability to speak.

Thank god Ryan is my brother and not this d-bag. (Excuse my language, I hate that word but it describes him perfectly.) At first I wondered why his mom was out of the house so much and didn't pay attention to her son, but obviously she's counting down the days until he leaves. I would too, were I her.

I just realized - Roger's gonna get a better room than me, isn't he? Damnit. I wish my housing lottery number was better. And Jess and Deirdre too. Dangit. I refuse to live in a room with anymore people than just me. (i.e. it has to be a single.) I refuse, I tell ya!

I'm bored. I wish someone would go online and chat with me. I'm also hungry. I might stop off at the yellow place and get me some food. I am annoyed because my "g" and "a" buttons on my keyboard aren't working properly and I don't know why.

La la la. I have to apply to the theme house now. La la la.

Still Alive

Still alive but don't have much time. I leave early in the morning tomorrow for England. Didn't get to visit the Eiffel Tower. I went to Versailles today. I wish I had some time to chat with peeps from home. But internet time is expensive. I had an interview today with the Family Equality Council. I'll find out by April whether it's accepted.

Woo.