From now until my hairy little legs land in Paris, I am swearing off chocolate.
The purpose of this is twofold:
1) So I can look less fat in my Paris pictures than I would look if I continued on this destructive path I’m on, eating chocolate for the next five months, and
2) So that when my hairy little legs do land in Paris they can be in perfect condition to race around the city as fast as they can carry me on my quest to consume the best chocolate my (few) francs can buy, and enjoy it like I have never enjoyed chocolate before, nor will again until the next time I find myself in Europe.
(Just kidding I know France goes by the Euro system now.)
I guess by that rationalisation I should also swear off bread, pastry, marshmallows, cream/créme, cheese, pretty much any dairy of any sort, smoked salmon, wine, and frozen pizza. (I consumed many a French frozen pizza in my time as a Belgian nanny and I promise they taste better than American/Canadian.)
I would complain about it but there would be no point, since I am one hundred percent aware that my sacrifice will absolutely not be in vain.