Planning to have a whale of a time

So it seems all my crazed packing rants were in vein, as the word on the street is that I will be fattened up so quickly on this boat that all i should be taking is a tent and watching out for women in gingerbread houses. It seems that 24 hour buffets do not white jeans make. The bikinis that I so lovingly chased around Melbourne will be reassigned as a head band to keep my hair out of my face as I stuff more pastries in my greedy mouth. My poor heels will break under the weight of unlimited steak and seafood platters, my sarongs will bulge with the contents of the grand patisserie, buttons will ricochet off in response to the pool bbq.

The other night my parents had a farewell party (you would think we were sailing Titanic style off into the history books) and there I was educated by a few cruise aficionados on the harsh realities of luxury cruising. That no matter how much time I spend in the ship's gym, or swimming in one of the five pools, walking around an area the size of chadstone, eventually the buffet is gonna get me. But don't cry for me Argentina, if I get too big for my clothes I can stay in my room for the whole trip, and order from the 24 hour room service menu. It could be like Super Size Me 2 . In fact I think the Big Mac is the only food I will not be able to get my greasy little hands on, that and anything with a calorie count under 500.

This will all make life very interesting in Rio, a town famous for naming their swimwear after dental floss. Wish me luck and fast metabolism....