Memoirs of a Fat Girl

I am almost ready for my trip. I have all my products, almost all my clothes, my ticket is on my desk and insurance has been purchased.

Now to face the demons of my past in a resplendent, epic, Return to Me: I haul out my dusty Nikon, and admire the quality of my choice. The F90X is the camera of cameras. It's durable, takes great pictures, and while not part of the professional Nikon F series, is the camera of choice for most National Geographic photographers. On mine I have attached a Sigma telephoto zoom lens that will not only allow me to spy on my neighbours, but have a look see on the Eiffel Tower every now and then. It's that powerful.

That powerful and that expensive, but it didn't dent my pocket too much thanks to the infamous Tax Refund of 2000. Thinking I'd be the next Jodi Cobb, I put myself in the market for a picture colossus, and lined my path to the F90X with drool.

We've had fabulous adventures together. Grecian villages, the Rockies, Bohemia, the Magnificent Mile. It's heavy as hell but was always at my side, until my life spiralled out of control. Among other things, the Nikon was shelved. A few years ago I was shooting like a pro, and now I don't even know what half these buttons mean.

But we're both ready for another adventure now. A few quick internet lessons and some messing with it should get me back up to speed. Now all I have to ask myself is, what on earth am I going to do with all this film? Professional film is crazy expensive, and here I am with 15 rolls of prime quality, past its prime film that I found tucked away in my old camera bag.

I don't know much about film, but I do know that every roll comes with an expiry date. I also know that I'm going to be completely reckless on this one and take a chance by using it all. It's time I gave life to the shreds of my past.