Shape I'm In: Pixie McKenna on health, family and everything between
“Most people say I’m a bit mental the way I fly by the seat of my pants. I try to do 150,000 things at the same time. I’m completely chaotic. I get a lot done but I think it drives everyone else mad,” says the Cork-born presenter of C4’s Embarrassing Bodies.
A GP two days a week in London’s Harley Street, the rest of the time she is either on TV or writing for newspapers and magazines. Somehow she is also bending time to work (“slowly”) on two books one medical, the other a chic lit novel — “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”
Married to Mitch, an engineer from Scotland, they live in Cambridge. “He is completely opposite to me. He used to be in the army, so he’s very tidy and very good at ironing. He is the yin to my yang.”
Their daughter, Darcy, is 22 months old.
* Dr McKenna is supporting Cork’s Mercy Hospital Foundation campaign, which aims to raise €3m in three years. See: www.mercyfundraising.ie
I exercise most days. When Darcy was born, I needed to be able to multi-task in order to get fit, so my husband bought me a jogging buggy. Four miles is my ceiling.
Up until I had my daughter I wasn’t bothered about getting things checked out. I now realise I’ve got the greatest responsibility of my entire life. I did blood tests and passed them all. I hate going to doctors.
I don’t eat between meals. I like fresh food and try to avoid anything that comes out of a box. I eat most things but I’m off bread for Lent. It’s brutal.
Full-fat Hellman’s mayonnaise, love it, and cheese and onion crisps.
My daughter at the moment. Mostly, I sleep like I’ve had a general anaesthetic. I am not a worrier but I worry about other people being ill. My husband broke his neck in October, he was playing rugby.
Cycling, running and, absolutely definitely, the best most therapeutic medicine ever is shopping on my own.
I love the smell of petrol and going into my mother’s house when she is cooking dinner.
My nose. It’s a big honker. But plastic surgery? Not in a fit.
After my husband broke his neck. I sat in the kitchen one morning after I had put out two cups and realised he was upstairs. I thought, my God, a 3mm difference in terms of fracture and he could have been paralysed. I had held it together until then. I’ve never cried on telly.
When people think they are above others —we are all equal, whether we are emptying the bins or fixing someone’s brain.
That I’m chaotic and disorganised. While it’s very endearing, it’s very irritating for other people.
I have a direct line to the Poor Clares in Cork. They are my heroines. When things go wrong, I always pray by proxy.
My daughter cheers up my day, every millisecond.

