Every Saturday, Lewison puts herself in the shoes of a news-making figure and imagines her record.
Monday May 16
Little Papi, this week is your week. Look closely into the eyes of the woman you see in the mirror. The masks will finally fall off, and not just on the subway. This week, glass ceilings will finally explode into confetti, and even puzzle heroes won’t be able to put them back together. This week, little Babeth, get ready to be on everyone’s lips and in all the papers. This week, Babeth, it’s Burninginian week, this week you’re in the news. Take advantage of that because next week it won’t be like that anymore. Unless you do water aerobics in Grenoble.
Tuesday 17 May
And here he is, Dazi, you are the prime minister. Yes, Prime Minister, she’s rocking, she’s sending the block, she’s writing history, and no offense to this PACA legislative nominee whose first name rhymes with colic. Who cares about the men who barely scored more than Pecres and LaSalle in the presidential election when they wanted to save France and rename everyone living in the TPMP. Who cares about the haters who tonight will compare you to the former mayor of Chatelareault on the pretext that you have the same job by thirty-one years. Whereas, Zaza, you don’t even have a rude name. Fazy admires Zzati, you are the Prime Minister. Don’t insult Jean-Luc either.
Wednesday May 18
I look at you in the mirror and tell myself that, in fact, your place may not have been in Matignon as head of government but in Cannes, on the red carpet, on the arm of a man like Brad Pitt, even if it’s a little lost in hanging out with a man older than Jean Castex. Yes, not Brad, you children still have the fragrance of revolution in your hair. You need something disjointed, an honest man, a man who will not hurt a woman. Ask Stanislas Guérini if he doesn’t have it (currently).
Thursday 19 May
Ma Szabo, it’s only Thursday, you don’t even have a government yet, but I can tell you’re really cheerful, it’s a crazy thing. Glow like that honestly, I don’t see who can compete with you, except for the just-born Rihanna or the people who live in New Delhi who don’t have air conditioning. The field of possibilities makes your eyes shine like a dark or bronze liner. You don’t even need mascara, you can see your eyes widen just to imagine a government without any minister accused of sexual harassment. Watch out anyway, as the storm approaches, make sure everything is waterproof.
Friday 20 May
Ah, dear Elizabeth! I look at you in the mirror again and tell myself that all these little girls are going to be happy. The General Secretary of the Elysée announced at tea time this new government whose formation would be blown up by Yucca’s request. Nah honestly…Mr quit the unlimited texting plan on evenings and weekends as Home Secretary, he’ll relax all the young girls and big too and all of a sudden, but I’m not so sure things will go well and will happen.
What little Elizabeth wants, we can be a woman at the head of the government, we can disperse the glass ceilings and the building blocks we have over our heads, and in the end we will always have to manage the mental load and pick up the disgusting socks of these gentlemen. The good news is that it’s Friday and you can get fitter with Edith.