Chapter 6. Drinks With Frenchmen

Julia Child and her husband, Paul, on their wedding day in 1946. Even with their height difference, they fell in love when they met. In France.

I’m a tall girl. Like really tall.

My height is 5'10". And that’s in bare ass feet. Put a pair of shoes on me — which I have been known to occasionally wear — and I’m pushing 6' tall. And heels? They make me taller than 90% of the men on Tinder, Bumble, and Hinge.

Not that this stops me from wearing them. And walking like a BossAssMama (BAM!) when I do.

Being tall like this seems to be the norm for today’s amazing young women. But back in the day, I was considered an Amazon. I’m still an Amazon for my age group.

For the record, and in case you didn’t know, I’m not an actual Amazon from Wonder Woman’s home planet, or country, or wherever her awesomeness comes from. It’s important to make that clear.

Because I’m not skilled at lassoing. Or running fast. Or … running. Looking glamorous on a horse. Feats of strength. I’m not particularly good at painfully straightening my hair and then re-curling it so that it’s like straight and curly at the same time (which, why did that become a thing?…pick ONE).

I can wear the hell out of a headband and some chunky bracelets, though.

The summer after my sophomore year in college, I went to the doctor to talk about why I was gaining weight, even though it was obviously and most definitely about the beer…