An I HATE FRANCE! Post
When I first moved here, like all immigrants, I had to go through the immigration process. It was a nightmare. The people that worked at the immigration office were beyond rude and disgusting.... seriously, thinking about it now, fills me with so much anger and rage, it makes me want to do evil, evil, evil things.
Allow me to vent for a moment.... I want to do evil, vile, disgusting things that will put Hitler to shame. I want to shove a baguette so far up your ass, you will fart crumbs for a year. I want to dig my nails in your face, then bite your cheek off!
Ahhhh... that is better. Excuse my French. Where was I? Oh yes, the immigration situation.
First off, it is mandatory, obviously. I had no idea what to expect, although, I figured it was similar to going to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles - you know, car bullshit) you present paperwork, pay a little something, and BAM! - Good for ten years! Au contraire, mon frère! I had NEVER been so insulted, humiliated and angry in all my life. I came home in tears. My husband attempted to comfort me saying the French administration was reknown for their inhumanity, but still. How could they be so fucking repulsive?
Second -- I didn't understand anything they said or attempted to explain. I just stood there dumbfounded, like an idiot, all the while thinking to myself, what the hell did I get myself into? I was completely out of my element, embarrassed and frustrated because I couldn't comprehend what they wanted. I felt like an infant, knowing exactly what I wanted, but couldn't communicate what I wanted. It is a horrible feeling and now I understand toddlers!
Then came the bombs!
Part of the immigration process is getting a medical exam. These so-called doctors were especially vile. They did the normal stuff doctors and nurses do, blood pressure, listening to my heart, checking in my ears, then they weighed me. At the time, I weighed about 90 kilos or 200 pounds. It is shocking, yes, but what they said was took the CAKE!
She said and I quote, "You are too fat. You need to stop eating McDonalds and drinking Coca-Cola." Talk about stereotyping! Obviously, it was the truth, except the part about eating McDonalds and drinking Coke, but I wanted to punch her the fuck out! I sat there in shock and utter amazement, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The thing is, before I went into her office, I wanted my husband to go in with me to help explain things to me. She said no, that it was not necessary. I can only imagine what my husband would have said if he had witnessed the situation. I also felt I couldn't say anything because it was the immigration office and I didn't want my anger to effect my residential status. I feel they know we are anxious and nervous about going, so they just prey on immigrants because of their miserable little lives. I know this NOW, but back then, it was something I had not experienced before.
Next, she asked about my past medical history, specifically diabetes. I told her that my family are very healthy and strong and we live very long lives. She then told me and I quote, "Because you are fat, I check for diabetes." She did the test and when completed, I asked for the results. She said in a disappointed tone and I quote, "No diabetes." To which I replied, I told you.
Needless to say, I cried. And since then, lost 45 pounds, still have another 30 to go. (UPDATE: My fat ass has lost more than 90 pounds - that's close to 7 stones - 45 kilos!) But as horrible as this immigration situation was, it does have a silver lining.
I call it my Scarlett O'Hara moment. While walking home from some place, crying and angry over someone treating me like an asshole, (ahhh, only in France!) I looked up to the sky and said through gritted teeth... and I quote,
"You want to fight, then let's go, bitch! I will beat you at your own game!
I will learn your stupid fucking language,
I will learn your ways and your customs,
I will be more French than the lot of you, you just wait and see!
I will fucking OWN YOU. You messed with the wrong motherfucker!
I swear to you... you WILL NOT WIN,
even if I have to lie, cheat or steal, as the Gods as my witness,
you will NEVER, EVER put me in this situation
And I am pleased to report that after that, no Frenchie has been rude or disrespectful towards me. I won't allow it. In that time, I also symbolically crowned myself Queen Jennifer, Mother of France and breaker of chains, which is hilarious, I know, but when French people on the streets have bowed to you... and I shit you not, it has happened on several occasions, seriously, I can't make this shit up. It lets me know that I'm on the right path?
One must learn, it's a process, the art of French fighting -- it's being really bitchy in a very, very, very polite way, (gotta perfect that French grammar!) and to REALLY hit it home, end with the famous line, "bonne education" and sashay away, like a bitch! IT DRIVES THEM CRAZY INSANE! Payback is a motherfucker, motherfucker!
Bonjour et Bienvenue!
Thank you for stopping by for a spell!
I am a 40-something year old American woman. Born in Texas, raised in Las Vegas!
Frenchified for Life
is a fabulous little lifestyle blog about truly embracing French life!
My intent is to simply inspire you to create something unique and beautiful in your everyday life. The French have this wonderful and annoying habit of seeing the world through rose colored glasses, might as well learn something from them!
That said, I lift my glass to you!
By the way, I mention the name Cachou (or The Cash) a lot, I'm referring to her...