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I feel nervous writing about my weight. I’ve never written about my weight before, and I don’t often speak about it. I feel like people are going to start shouting at me, “Shut up!” I’m not claiming to be some kind of authority. But I do know my own body.
I have been a size six for pretty much my whole adult life. I’ve been pregnant twice, and both times, had that basketball-under-the-jumper kind of pregnancy that makes people leap to their feet on trains to offer their seats. Both times, I went back to my usual weight, which is a bit less than 45kg, after having my baby. I’m now in my mid-forties, and although everything is droopier than it used to be, I’m still a size six.
I have seen plenty of articles with headlines like “Secrets of skinny women” or “How these women stay thin without dieting”. This is not going to be one of those articles. I have no secrets, no tips.
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I eat when I’m hungry. I also eat when I’m bored, or unhappy, or happy. I eat till I’m full, sometimes beyond. I eat lots of buttered toast and white rice and pasta and cheese, and drink alcohol every night. I always have carbs for dinner.