I am officially fat. Rachel Jenkins surveyed her naked body critically in her full-length and rather unforgiving bedroom mirror, and made a silent promise to herself that she would join a gym immediately. Time is of the essence, she thought to herself, pinching the definite layer of flab sitting uncomfortably around her usually fairly toned mid-section. Her thighs had developed a few more lumpy bits, despite her lashing on tubs of expensive anti-cellulite cream. Damn you Anthony Raynard, Rachel thought in annoyance as she pinched her chubby bits. I suppose that's what breaking up with the self-declared love of my life has done to me, she muttered to herself, that and bucket loads of red wine and shed loads of ice cream.
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