An American in Provence

It's been awhile since I received my notice that I am French, and not a peep from L'Etat Français since.

I'm not feeling very French.

Perhaps after the ceremony I will, and voting in the next election (let's hope my papers are in order before that).

So maybe one day I will feel like a French citizen, but I doubt I will ever feel like a FRENCHWOMAN.

I can just imagine a separate certificate, administered by a bunch of snooty Parisiennes after an Inquisition-like trial.

1) Can you fold this 90 cm by 90 cm piece of silk in 36 different ways in 5 minutes?

2) Can you smoke a cigarette, hold on to your tiny dog's leash, give someone le bise, send text messages, and drink an espresso at the same time while looking chic?

3) When you throw a dinner party for eight people, do you care more about how the food and table look than how the food tastes?

4) Would you spend on lingerie more or less than half a month's rent?

5) French women don't get (pick one) a) fat b) emotional c) disheveled d) unaccessorized.

(For the Frenchman test, the guys will have to help me out, as I will never be a Frenchman, and can't deduce anything from observing Alain. I'm not really sure he is French, despite what his passport, birth certificate, ID card, and Justificatif de Nationalité Française say).