I have been here for exactly one month. It doesn't seem that long at all. This weekend I made up my mind to definitely, one hundred percent, no doubt about it, change jobs for a better paid one where I can be more independant. Then I came back to the family this evening and they had a friend round and they were being so nice to me... but no, I must find a new job!
I went to Disneyland again today with Amo, I think I am becoming one of those obsessive freaks but I love it so much. Last night I stayed at Amo's and we went out for drinks and I got very drunk. At the end of the night we went to McDonalds and it was so weird because I remembered being in that exact same McDonalds six years ago on a school trip and little did I know then that I would be living here. Amo always says she can't speak French but last night she ordered three meals entirely in French and I was so impressed, I was staggering about and shaking my head going 'You are so good at French! Amo, that was amazing!' Then we got the food outside and I was telling her French boyfriend how good her French is and he was like 'Really?' and he was pretty impressed that Amo had managed to order three chicken nugget meals all in French. Then he opened the bag and said 'Her French is amazing is it?' and we had got three chicken burgers and three chocolate muffins.
But at least she tried! And there was three of everything! And it was still chicken-related! We still ate it of course, even though McDonalds is disgusting and very, very mal for your health.
I realised I have been eating so much crap that I can't believe I was originally worried about getting too skinny here. This weekend I have eaten: biscuits, McDonalds and sweets on Friday night; bread, chocolate, ham, pizza, garlic bread and McDonalds on Saturday; and today sausage, bacon, Bueno, chocolate muffin (left over from Amo's amazing Saturday night ordering), pasta at DisneyWorld and then pasta with the family.
I am going to be fucking gigantic if I carry on like this! I can't believe that before I came here I read 'French Women Don't Get Fat' and thought I would be able to do things like have one square of chocolate a week and Savour It. This week alone I have bought FOUR huge bars of chocolate and each time I have devoured the whole bar in about thirty seconds. That's not technically my fault though; if they sold normal sized chocolate bars I would just buy them but instead they insist of making me eat 21 squares at a time.
Me and Lauren bought delicious pastries the other day and as we walked to the Eiffel Tower with them we saw another patisserie and I said to Lauren 'If only we had eaten these quicker, we could be buying another cake now' and Lauren said it would make a good epitah: 'If only I'd eaten a bit quicker, I could have fitted more cakes in.'
Is this how I'll feel in a year if I don't move jobs? Will I think 'What the fuck was I doing working for that family and eating jelly-couscous, think of all the cake I could have eaten instead?'
I think that's exactly what I'll think.
One month. I've been here for one month! Where will I be in another month's time? With a new family, one who pay me loads and feeds me lamb and chocolate, but maybe beat me everyday with a broom? Living by myself and working in a resteraunt maybe, my French magically improving somehow? Will I be dead, run down by a sex machine on a motorbike in his suit and overcoat as I skip across the road blindly trusting that the Little Green Man still wields some power in this city? Will I be living with randomers? With friends? Will I be living with that sexy homeless man on the corner of Avenue de Suffren? I live in hope...
Oh and by the way, I know I'm quite a paranoid person and sometimes I get things completely wrong... but if you're reading this and you think that I think I'm cool because I've 'got a camera and started a blog'... then you're a Fat Fucking Cunt and you can Fuck Off.