The first casualty of quitting has been my wardrobe. The other day I glanced at myself in the mirror in the loo and someone out of the 80s looked back at me – baggy green jumper from the graveyard region of the closet, unfashionable non-skinny jeans, high half-ponytail.

I better get it together next week or I’m going to be remembered as a frump.

Advertisements