I have never longed to look like one of those male models you see in adverts, with bulging biceps and washboard abdominals.
That kind of physique takes a rare set of genes and hours spent working out every single day. Life's too short.
But since my early 20s, I have been a regular at the gym. It's more damage limitation than anything else and I hoped exercise would offset my love of pints and the occasional pizza.
Yet, having always been pretty much in proportion - a healthy 5ft 10in and 11 stone - as my 30th birthday crept closer, I developed what some might unkindly call a paunch. My metabolism was naturally slowing down.
While women may acquire saddle bags, men accumulate fat round their middle. I exercised harder but the fat stayed where it was, wobbling insolently centre-stage.
Having a bit of a pot belly isn't the end of the world - I didn't lie awake at night worrying about it - but I wasn't that happy. And this was my state of mind when last year, on a journalistic commission, I investigated the boom in male cosmetic surgery. In particular liposuction, the surgical removal of fat.
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