They say French women don’t get fat.
She isn’t fat, not really – just a little chunky or chubby or maybe pleasantly plump.
Not fat, but she has a beautiful little tummy, the result of so much delicious bread and the hormonal ravages of puberty which will always play wonderfully fun tricks on the bodies of young people. She has just turned 22, so puberty is behind her as are the days when she had a flat stomach. No more of that. At least not without dieting and exercise.
And she had grown a bit too lazy for exercise. And dieting meant she could not indulge her appetites for delicious foods.
The sand slips through the hourglass, and ahead of her, who knew what wonders await! Perhaps even more of a tummy from love, from comfort, from loss of love, from marriage, from pregnancy, from grief, from aging, from the gluttony of life itself.
Her alluring figure is like an hourglass where the middle bulges out just a bit too much. Her
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