Speaking of diets, which I was (two days ago; keep up, people), I am not bothering: I like food too much. I am overweight, yes, but I just don’t care that much anymore. In the past month I have twice read the same piece of wisdom: after a certain age, a woman must choose between her face and her figure. It means that skinny older women are wrinkled and haggard looking (look at poor Hannah Waterman and her huge weight loss; her figure is great but her face looks dreadful) and we chubby older women might waddle down the street and need to buy two seats on a plane, but we look like infants. I’ll plump for infantile any day: pass the chocolate.
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