Ladies, gentlemen & divas,
I am in the pit. Oh yes. That pit. The fat pit. Some of you may already have heard that French women don't get fat. After living in Paris (or just outside of Paris at least however after socialising in Paris) for 6 months now, I can confirm this is no lie - French women don't get fat.
Guess what? French men don't get fat either. No-one gets fat. I truly do believe the government has some sort of scheme whereby if a fat person walks into a doctors office, perhaps to discuss their weight or weight-related illness, they shortly after are cut up and fed to those that are so thin they are almost dead to keep balancing this country-wide phenomenon.
This presents quite a large issue for me, because, ladies, gentlemen & divas, I am fat.
This is one of the two major hurdles I must leap over in order to continue life in France without finally giving up and volunteering myself to be fed to the malnourished, the second hurdle is of course that I don't speak French, and believe me, this pleases the French to no end.
I have decided in a Bridget Jones moment of madness to take control of my life and start a diary so that this time next year I won't be sitting here shit-faced listening to sad FM, easy listening for the over 30's. This is my diary and I invite you to share the experience with me. This is an anonymous diary and this is to ensure that I tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, warts and all.
Hold on girls, this is going to be vile.
Current weight... 121kg.