Marina's window on the B-Line.
People often ask me if I intend to retire in Paris, where I came from. No! I ain’t going nowhere! I want to retire right here -preferably on the B-Line. Why on earth would I want to retire in a city filled with women who make a public show of eating plates laden with rich food in front of American tourists watching them in awe and wondering how they can do it twice a day and keep their figures?
They are lying through their teeth my friends! What you do not know is, while they pretend to absentmindedly eat their Steak au poivre avec frites, they are frantically calculating how many calories they are ingurgitating and for how many meals they will have to content themselves with an apple or a yogurt.
How do I know? I was one of these women! So, do yourself a favor: next time you go to Paris, ignore them! Pretend you could not care less and with time, they will stop teasing us.
No my friends, I want to retire in a place like the B-Line where people are not afraid to order chocolate mousse for breakfast and add, in an assertive and guilt-free tone of voice “And give me some of that hot chocolate with whipped cream to wash it down!”
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