Until recently, the only thing the French had on us was their seeming inability to accept obesity. This was a good thing. Not only has America become fat, we’ve also decided to accept it. Don’t take this the wrong way. I still fully support American attempts to inject bacon or bacon flavoring into any and every thing. However, that doesn’t mean you need to sit around all day and let the grease coagulate in your veins.
This difference exists in part at a cultural level. For instance, American sports tend to celebrate obesity, whether it be literal or clinical. Although I love the guy and wish he could have been on the Tigers at some point, David Wells didn’t exactly seem like someone who ever matched up the idea of “baseball” with that of “conditioning.” And although it’s easy to see the extra weight a 300-pound lineman is carrying, even running backs and linebackers tend to be obese by clinical definitions.
In contrast, think of the typically French sports or sports where they have done well. Soccer, rugby, sex. These ideas may be completely foreign to us but the one thing they all have in common is lots of cardio. Even the more sedentary French sports, like boules and drinking wine, tend to have unforeseen positive health impacts.
So why is it that even the French are now celebrating being overweight? Ok, maybe she isn’t fat but I like my models the same way I like my crepes: thin and slathered in Nutella. If we can’t count on the French to enforce these standards, where else can we go?
I think more than anything I’m just afraid that the French will become so much like us that we’ll no longer be able to make fun of them. That is not a world I want to live in. Who would we turn to for our jokes? Canadians? They’re too nice. No, I want a world that makes sense, a world where the French inspire simultaneous hatred and jealousy. Take note, France. This plus-size model thing? It simply will not do.