When I was a teenager I would lock myself in the bathroom for hours, bouffanting my hair like Patty Duke and trying to recreate Barbra Streisand's flawless eyeliner, only to comb it all out and wash it all off before stepping out into the world a butchish bisexual teen.

In moments when I question if I should be having kids, I think of all those phone calls from my sister-in-law, in which, 3,000 miles away, I hear my nephews screaming for her attention. I tell her I have to go because I am packing to leave for Europe, and her tone flatlines: "That must be nice."

I'm not sure that I am able to feel embarrassment.

You know, either I'm too fat or I'm flavour of the month. I don't feel either, but maybe I'm both, who knows?

When I think about the idea of Rebel Wilson having to go to the Oscars and not having something amazing to wear that's made for her, it drives me mad.

Products are a must - full stop. I'm sorry to say it, but that bob won't look so sleek on its own - you need a little help. It doesn't have to be the high-end stuff that they sell in the salon. Products you find in the supermarket are just as good, and sometimes better.

I love to make people feel like they are taking a part in their own body and evolution.