When I was 21 I would rather have died than get fat

I had a flashback recently. I am 21 and I am in the local Centra near the damp, messy house we rented when I was at university.

I am with my friends Caroline and Roisin and we are standing at the magazine rack, flicking through copies of Heat and Now that we have no intention of buying.

Roisin points at a photo of a celebrity and says that she wants to get her hair cut in a similar style.