My body is rebelling. The right side particularly. It’s as if, at some point in my early twenties, someone drew a line vertically down my middle and labelled the right side ‘trash.’

While I’ve hardly treated my body as any sort of temple, it’s not as if I’ve neglected it either. Sure, I’ve eaten a pig’s tail off the floor of the pub and I’ll admit that not all of the hair attached to it was my own…