Sadly, you won't be seeing me on the Fashfest catwalk this year. I had an incredible day auditioning for Canberra's answer to fashion week a few months ago, but it turns out I need some more modelling experience to be selected in a lineup for the runway. A lot more actually.

I'm not the only one. There are about 100 other models who didn't make it through and that's the reality of the audition process: it's a competition. Only the best models - those who have a great walk, can stare down the barrel of a camera and have great poses - make it to the 45m Fashfest stage.

But it still hurts. Mostly on a selfish level. Because strutting the catwalk was such a phenomenal high that I wanted to do it again. And I wanted to write another story about how good it felt. And to shine my light.

And to show mums struggling with their weight or that massive sense of lost identity (and there are so many) that you're still you, and if you go balls-to-the-wall and want it bad enough then sometimes the seemingly impossible (including vying your way onto a catwalk with little to no experience) will become possible.

But it didn't quite work out the way I wanted it to. This year, anyway.

I'll practise walking (with heels this time) and next year make sure I complete the full Fashfest process (in my excitement I didn't finish the final section of the audition, walking in a group).

Looking to the future, I actually called the Canberra Institute of Technology to see how many emerging fashion designers I might be able to model for at future Fashfests. Of the 60 students studying fashion at CIT, none are designing exclusively for women my size. So that's another issue I aim to help address in the next 12 months.

I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who was inspired by my story and rooting for me to star at this year's Fashfest. I'm so addicted to the catwalk, I won't be able to stay away now. Bring on 2018.