It was 2014, I was 39 and had been living in New York and eating a fairly standard local diet: bagels, burritos, burgers, beers, martinis and margaritas. I’d put on weight and my clothes didn’t fit. My energy levels were low and I’d beg my friends not to put my photo on Facebook. “Don’t! I have too many chins!” I’d plead.
This wasn’t a New Year’s Day feeling – where I woke up with a killer hangover and a phoneful of regretful things I’d done and said. This was different. It was an undeniable realisation that the treadmill I had been on for many years now – hedonism followed by a health kick and back to hedonism – was no longer serving me. Was it really serving anyone? Swinging between decadence and self-imposed deprivation was fast becoming the new normal in the super-abundant West.
Then, when I was contemplating how to take control over my health, a curious opportunity popped into my inbox....
More From Life & Style