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I remember once looking through an old photo album of my days at University. We were out in the sun, probably playing hookie from lectures, wearing shorts, flip flops, sunglasses.

I was smiling, the wind was blowing my hair back - like a fashion shoot. It was one of those perfect photos, the kind you can plan or pose or pay for.

The kind of photo you should frame, or keep on the fridge as a constant reminder that you can look fabulous, like you're having fun, like you're filled with joy.

But, as I looked at it, I wasn't thinking any of that.

I was thinking: "Jesus, I was thin! Why did I spend those days stressing about being fat?"