There's an American idea that you want to look as young as you can for as long as you can. If you can be mistaken for a teenager from behind into your 50s, then you've won; you've succeeded.

I'm speaking in very broad brushstrokes, but in France, there's generally this idea that you should look like the best version of the age that you are.

In my 40s, I expect to finally reap the average-looking girl's revenge. I've entered the stage of life where you don't need to be beautiful; simply by being well-preserved and not obese, I would now pass for pretty.

Certain woman will be jealous of how skinny you are, no matter what's causing it.

In your 40s, you kind of know how things are likely to go, and you're better at saying, 'You know what? That just doesn't suit me...' I remember thinking in my 30s, 'I should go to Burning Man. I could be a Burning Man person.' And in my 40s, I'm like, 'You know what? I'm never going to go to Burning Man.'

Just do what you want more often. Don't be so worried about what other people expect.

I think, in writing a memoir, you kind of give order to your life.

Although I wrote a book about infidelity around the world, I ended up concluding that fidelity is quite a good idea.

The question on my husband's birthday is always, What do you get for the man who has nothing?

Usually, I'm so self-absorbed that my companion could be bleeding to death, and I might not notice.

When you're further along in your career, you probably have more money and more means; you have to stop yourself from giving your child too much. Whereas, if you're in twenties, you might just get by.

In the Nineties, there was all this new research into brain development, with evidence saying poor kids fall behind in school because no one is talking to them at home, no one is reading to them. And middle-class parents seized on this research.

Unlike the time sink of binge-watching a TV series, podcasts actually made me more efficient. Practically every dull activity - folding laundry, applying makeup - became tolerable when I did it while listening to a country singer describing his hardscrabble childhood, or a novelist defending her open marriage.

And as a mother of three with a full-time job, podcasts gave me the illusion of having a vibrant social life. I was constantly 'meeting' new people. My favorite hosts started to seem like friends: I could detect small shifts in their moods and tell when they were flirting with guests.

French children seem to be able to play by themselves in a way.

This idea - that the only way to mend the relationship post-affair is through therapy - is unique to the American script.

Get rid of the idea of kids' food. Kids can eat whatever adults can eat. You know, there is one dinner, and everyone has the same thing.

What you can say, what French parents say to their kids is, 'You don't have to eat everything, honey, you just have to taste it.' And it's that tasting little by little by little that gets kids more familiar with the food and more comfortable with it and more likely to eat it the next time.

The French talk about education, the education of their children. They don't talk about raising kids. They talk about education. And that has nothing to do with school. It's this kind of broad description of how you raise children and what you teach them.

When we're in the U.S., my kids instantly start snacking all the time. I don't know how it happens. There is just more food available all the time. There aren't all these little different varieties of snack foods in France.

I think kids in France, and certainly in my household, don't necessarily stop interrupting when you tell them, but they gradually become more aware of other people, and that means that you can have the expectation of finishing a conversation.

I'm always hoping no one is following me around with a camera.

I don't like rules, because rules, you have to follow.

If you want to know how old you look, just walk into a French cafe. It's like a public referendum on your face.

You know you're in your 40s when you've spent 48 hours trying to think of a word, and that word was 'hemorrhoids.'

Childhood and adolescence are nothing but milestones: You grow taller, advance to new grades, and get your period, your driver's license, and your diploma. Then, in your 20s and 30s, you romance potential partners, find jobs, and learn to support yourself.

Here's some news you might find surprising: By and large, the French like Jews.

When people used to ask me what I missed about America, I would say, 'The optimism.' I grew up in the land of hope, then moved to one whose catchphrases are 'It's not possible' and 'Hell is other people.' I walked around Paris feeling conspicuously chipper.

Before Donald Trump took office, optimism about his presidency was the lowest of any president-elect since at least the 1970s.

I had applied to become French - or, rather, Franco-American, as I'm now a dual citizen - partly because I could: I'd lived and paid taxes here for long enough.

My husband is so upset by President Trump's scapegoating of immigrants and Muslims, he refuses to even visit the United States.

When my mother in Florida mentions that she's off to play golf, I think: Golf? In the age of Trump?

How hard or easy it is to raise kids, especially while working, is a big part of people's well-being everywhere.

I gradually understood why European mothers aren't in perpetual panic about their work-life balance and don't write books about how executive moms should just try harder: Their governments are helping them - and doing it competently.

America's parenting customs can shock foreigners.

Early childhood offerings vary, but everywhere in Europe and in Canada, they're far more generous than in the United States. Ukrainian dads may not change enough diapers, but their government offers paid maternity leave; practically free preschool; and per-baby payments equivalent to eight months of an average salary.

The French don't think everyone should have the same bank balance, but they're offended by extremes of inequality.

When I moved to Europe 12 years ago, my biggest concern was whether I'd ever speak decent French. Practically every American I knew came to visit, many saying they dreamed of living here, too.

Around my neighborhood, I'm known as the American who talks to her computer while she types.

I guess we're all supposed to get used to living in a more dangerous world.

I spent most of my adolescence feeling awkward but never once mentioned it.

We're understandably worried that staring at screens all day, and blogging about our breakfasts, is turning America into a nation of narcissists. But the opposite might be true.

One of the great joys of a creative life is that your observations and loose moments aren't lost forever; they live in your work.

I've never gotten a good idea while checking Twitter or shopping.

The whole point of a commencement speech is to say something encouraging.

When my kids correct my cultural missteps, I sometimes suspect that they're not embarrassed, they're gleeful.

Having lived in America and France, I've been on both sides of the picky-eating divide.

The overarching conventional wisdom - what everyone from government experts to my French girlfriends take as articles of faith - is that restrictive diets generally don't make you healthier or slimmer. Instead, it's best to eat a variety of high-quality foods in moderation and pay attention to whether you're hungry.

We Anglophones have reasons for adopting strange diets. Increasingly, we live alone. We have an unprecedented choice of foods, and we're not sure what's in them or whether they're good for us. And we expect to customize practically everything: parenting, news, medicines, even our own faces.

Eating among the French certainly affected me. After a few years here, I gave up most of my selective food habits.