J'irai Où Tu Me Veux Aller

And Kevin thought he won.. You guessed Brazil, buddy.

If there was one place I never thought I'd go, it's France. I figured it'd be foreign with a language, but France? Fashion-forward, cheese-and-wine-loving, romantic France. Let's be honest: none of you thought I'd go there either. In fact, the closest guess was Gregorious in Italy. Congrats, kiddo. You get a hug. A good one.
I had to adjust to the idea. Not that I was opposed, just shocked.
Let's take a gander at my credentials. I spent a month in Africa, and loved it. I took several years of Spanish in High School and would attend Church meetings in the language when I traveled around the stake with my dad. Then I served a Spanish/Portuguese speaking mini mission in Cambridge last Christmas. On top of that, I collect various phrases in diverse tongues from people I meet. Of all the phrases I'd gathered over the years, I have a single French phrase I learned from Timeline, of all places: Je suis a un espion. Translation: I am a spy. That's gonna come in handy, I'm sure of it. Combine all that with the knowledge I'm going somewhere that's poor and ready for the gospel and, guesses anyone?

Think I pull off the beret?

Here are my main concerns:
1. That I not only have to wear dresses all the time, but I have look fancy. This is France, after all. If anyone knows fashion, it's the French. That's the end of my plan for ponytails and v necks every day.
2.  Never taken an ounce of French in my life. That'll come easily enough; I'm good with languages. But you guys should have hear me the first time I tried to read my Livre de Mormon. It was rough.
3. I am going to get so fat on all that French bread. Anyone know any good therapists?