So, I'm back home.
It's weird isn't it? I don't want to be an Englishman who lives in France and compares it constantly with living in the UK, but from time to time, I am that man.
I try hard not to be the kind of person who says "how much?!" when I pay for petrol in England, but I say it. I try really hard not to be the person who praises french supermarkets (so much cheese!) and groans at the thought of English sliced bread. But hey, here I am.
I tell you what though - I love the UK for it's love of fat people. We always moan in the UK about body fascism and size zero models, but people are happy and live normal, fairly healthy lives with a bit of fat. Some of us even find a bit of bulk a turn-on.
Now, being well built is one thing but no-one, absolutely no-one, wants to be the fattest person in the room.
In the UK I'd never be the fattest person in the room. There's definitely some pounds to be lost here, but I know many fatter people. In the UK. In France I am the fattest person I know. How did this happen? I go to meetings and am the biggest person there. Ditto nightclubs, ditto restaurants, ditto everywhere.
My fancy Gym membership is helping me to lose some, but even though I enjoy the view of the fit bodies working out, I miss fat people in the gym. There's nothing better than people fatter than yourself to give your confidence a boost. Well guess what? I'm boosting everyone's confidence but my own at the gym.
But I continue to go. If only for the nice towels and the hydrotherapy pool.
And the baking hot sauna.
And the outdoor swimming pool in summer.
And that boy behind reception with the curly hair....