Posted by / Category Stereotypes /

It happened again today. What am I talking about? Well, I received another dick pic on Twitter this morning, as a DM. I deleted it, and blocked the account, as I usually do. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t like it, but, frankly, it didn’t bother me. I am used to it by now. I still don’t understand what men expect me to do when they send me such pictures. Do they want me to reciprocate(No way!) ? Shall I admire them? What is the point exactly? I don’t understand but hey, we are where we are.


I then opened my email box, and this time found a love declaration (not from the same guy, I think). It’s amazing how people believe that they have a special connection with you when they don’t know you at all. I ignored it. That’s not entirely true: I thought of forwarding it to my agent to see whether we could publish all the love declarations I have received at some point. It could work, couldn’t it?


So tell me: what went wrong? How did I become such a magnet for weirdos?

The funny thing is that, when growing up, I was always the shy one. My male friends were nice to me in order to get closer to my group of friends, they couldn’t care less about me., which broke my heart a couple of times (ah, memories!).


Fast forward 20 years, and I miss being invisible. I really do. What did I do to get so much attention? Well, in no particular order:

  1. I moved to the UK, where French women are considered to be Style Goddesses (for the record, I used to be a Signalling Engineer);
  2. I started writing, and apparently it gave me an edge;
  3. I made the occasional photo shoot, ad, or magazine cover and everybody realised that I was indeed a woman (shock horror), with a pair of boobs and a butt (seriously, I think that the BBC should send a notification for this. Because it’s amazing, right?);
  4. I made a point of taking care of myself and not letting myself balloon after my pregnancies;
  5. I never got rid of my French accent;
  6. I don’t follow fashion fads;
  7. I don’t really try to be visible. Frankly, I don’t care and I have far better things to do anyway;
  8. I make a point of living my life to the fullest, hence all the travels and the running.


Shock horror, this is unforgiveable, right? I feel like I am being punished for being, well, me. So where do I go from here? Do I try to ‘comply’ (whatever it means?). or do I keep on being me? I think I’ll choose the latter! What do you think?