‘Glamping’ just as shit as camping

LAST YEAR, I was a wreck. Overweight, ugly, deeply in debt, trapped in an unhappy marriage and playing Russian roulette every Saturday night just to feel alive. 

And today? I have the looks of a model, am a millionaire dating a billionaire, and have just been named project manager at the Large Hadron Collider.

How have I achieved this miracle? Simple. I cut out gluten. And now my life is perfect in every single way.

Too good to be true? I thought the same before I stopped eating bread. Now look at me. I am a hot, successful and probably immortal human bathing in the glow of gluten-free beauty.

Did I mention I don’t eat gluten and I have to shop in that tiny aisle in Waitrose where they keep the food for special people? So what if it’s ridiculously expensive, flavourless and has kind of a weird texture?

I’m reaping the benefits of being the person with all the interesting gluten stories. Have I told you the one about how I used to get really bloated after a meal, and now I don’t?

Have I explained how much better my skin has been since giving it up? My skin, my body, my whole damn life.

I can tell you over dinner, although if the restaurant doesn’t have a gluten-free menu I’ll moan about it for the entire evening. I have so much more energy for moaning now. And a better immune system. And much healthier turds.

Wait don’t go! I need to tell you! I’ve cut out gluten and my life is perfect!

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