For my 50th birthday a few years ago I gave myself the gift of weight loss. By the time I shared a celebratory glass or five of bubbles with my girlfriends I had dropped two dress sizes and apparently looked "fabulous". So fabulous that I inspired three of my girlfriends to also lose weight because, frankly, if I could do it, anyone could.
Then I put it all back on, for the simple reason that losing weight is really, really hard. To do it I went to the gym religiously and a personal trainer made my body ache every day for the three months it took to drop the kilos. To get up off a chair I had to crawl out of it like a woman twice my age and I had to roll in and out of bed like a seal.
I also ate very little. One week I ate only 1000 calories a day. What happened that week involved a permanent bad mood, low tolerance of anything and anyone and lots of crying. I fired three people including my bank manager which, in retrospect, wasn't a great thing to do.
Losing weight was a nightmare I wanted never to repeat, and I happily joined the 65 per cent of people who return to their pre-diet weight within three years. I am now the size 16 my body likes to be. I am tall and of Danish descent so I tell myself my ancestors were big, strong women who herded cows in Jutland's picturesque mountains and I shouldn't fight those genes. When my friends discuss diets I often quote Erma Bombeck who said: "Think of all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart."
Recently, however, I've found out why it's so hard to shed kilos. It's because my gut bacteria is all wrong. According to The Diet Myth: the real science behind what we eat, by Tim Spector (he's a doctor), it is a scientific fact that one person will gain weight eating the same food as another who will not.