As a habitual comfort-eater, I’d gained several pounds over the years (ok, stones), so it’s come as something as a surprise that during this highly stressful period of adjustment in later life I’ve actually lost a couple of inches off my lower regions. Whether it’s down to the fact I’ve done a lot more walking in recent weeks than usual (walking is when I’m better able to think through problems), or that my new shopping list no longer contains crisps, chocolates, cheese or white bread, I can’t be entirely certain.

I’m not too bothered about the whys and wherefores, but am delighted that I can finally get my size 18, non-stretch jeans past my knees. Actually, when I cautiously tried them on last weekend they squeezed up over all the flab and cellulite (gross) and up as far as my waist! True, I had to lay on the bed to zip them up, and I couldn’t sit down in them for fear of rupturing vital internal organs, but hopefully in another couple of months I’ll finally be able to get rid of my chavvy old elasticated jogging bottoms. Who’d have thought it?!


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