A French Soul

"Do you know what happens last night?"

My adorably French flatmate looks at me with a conspirator’s whisper.

“The new American girl, she has many DVD and we decide to watch, and then…”

A dramatic pause and a theatrical hand flourish.

“In the middle of the film….she gets on floor and starts to do…THE ABDOMINALS!”

I must look confused.

“Yes the abdominals! You know… up and down and up, her knees to her elbows…and you know, then when she finish, she sits there for 30 minutes, breathing like this: Whooo! Whooo! Whooo!”

There is a very serious exhibit of loud mock panting, while I discreetly suppress an urge to laugh.

“How we watch anything but her? Is just so rude…. This is American way?”

I guessed that for some it was common practice.

“But why you never do this?”

I shrug.

“I will tell you why exactly: Is because you are not so rude. You may have American eating habits,"

Now triumphant...

"But still a French soul!”