Why I felt like a contented Walrus in Paris

Touch down in Paris, tired, bedraggled but oh so happily surprised by our chic french Airbnb apartment in Passy. Walking distance to the Eiffel tower and straight out of the iconic Paris images that we have daydreamed over. Once the jet lag fog lifted and we ventured onto the streets, we started to notice a trend. Every-single-person, every-bloody-one was gorgeous.

Older men with stylishly turned up collars and a devilish sweep to their hair. Women, svelte, and groomed and confident and quirky, beautiful and sexy, I swear Dave and I both had trouble holding a thought, let alone a conversation. Even teenagers, who should have been pimply and greasy, like normal, wore perfect "I'm glamorous but don't care" street outfits, all shiny hair and big sunglasses.

Now, I'm a bigger girl. I know this fact and its not exactly something I can hide. For the most part, from hour to hour, day to day, I don't think about it too much and there are some bonuses, like a great rack. It crosses my mind when considering a krispy kreme donut (or two) or under those god awful fluorescent change room lights, oh and especially when I accidentally swap to the front camera on my phone, but, like I said, not too often.... Until Paris.

Suddenly, I was Walrus Shrek. I felt ungainly, huge and dowdy. Dressed in my "I had to pack for 6 months and I never ever want to iron in that time" outfits, I walrused, with my family in tow, to all of the famous and best Paris locations.....and had the BEST fucking time!

You know why I didn't care? Cos it was Paris. I gorged on Almandine croissants, cheese, Pate, Champagne, Wine, Pain Chocolate, more cheese, terrine and cognac.

Parisians, you can be skinny, you can be stylish and while you cook like that? Ill happily be the fat, drooling, clomping walrus in the background inhaling all your delicacies and i'll thank you for it. Do yourself a favour, buy a mu mu, travel insurance and a ticket to Paris. Skip the fashion show and find the closest boulangerie.