Wim Hof and Joe Wicks. Incredibly, this never happened. Instead, in Cornwall I only got fatter. The food was so good! I drained my overdraft in farm shops buying clotted cream, freshly baked bread, lamb steaks, full-fat milk, telling myself I deserved a little comfort.
I comforted myself until my jeans didn’t fit.Mostly, I don’t beat myself up over my weight. Why bother, when there’s always someone else doing it?
As I chirpily shared with you the humiliating details of my break-up, my idiotic naivety in moving to Cornwall, my house-buying cluelessness – I dreaded not the reaction to my tell-all, but seeing the picture that accompanied my column.
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