I have been dieting since I was eight years old. One trip to the doctor for recurring tonsillitis somehow resulted in me having to get on a set of scales (because, obviously). The next thing I knew, I was being told I had to keep a food diary, scrutinising everything I ate.
Not yet having a hang up about my body image – how naïve of me – I was honest in what I presented to the doctor two weeks later, not thinking anything of it.
“Hmm, nothing too bad on here… lots of chicken and rice,” the doctor said.
And? What about it?
“But I think we could cut back on the KitKat Chunkies.”
