I have always dieted. Always equated thin with fit, thin with attractive, thin with sexy. When I was in my twenties and working in the fashion business, fags, tequila and cocaine were more important than proper dinner, but my first pregnancy at 29 put an end to all that nonsense.
For many years after that I was either pregnant, breastfeeding or juggling work with childcare. Looking after three children kept me fit. Stress kills my appetite as well. I was seven and a quarter stone when my husband died in 2000 and I looked a wreck but, my goodness, my jeans were loose.
Over the past 24 years I’ve moved around a lot. Commuting to London from Brighton, living in London, then moving to Spain