The other huge problem about body dysmorphia is the normalisation and misuse of the term. You only have to look at gossip magazines covers to see celebrities mouthing about their muffin tops, slamming their cellulite and loathing their legs; thats human nature, its natural. Its not necessarily right, and we all do it far too often, but it's something innate in all of us.
I rarely drink alcohol. I have a physical condition that means that I can live with either alcohol or gravity but not both, and so went dry not just for a month but for ten straight years. Not just any ten years either, the good ones where you are old enough to have proper fun and young enough to outrun the Fuzz.
Anyone who thinks dying from an overdose is selfish has a weird idea of what an addict wants out of life. There comes a point at which drinking, drug use, all that - they're not fun anymore. Philip Seymour Hoffman wasn't out partying. He was alone in his bathroom, compelled. Cory Monteith in his hotel room. Chris Kelly in his living room.
Before my month away from the tipple, I was very self-aware about how young and immature I was. Now I feel as though I am actually an adult. Someone who can have one drink and mean one, who can have a diet Coke instead of a shot of vodka at a busy venue, who doesn't feel obliged to stay out if in fact they want to go home.
As the world's largest brewer, we are committed to promoting our products responsibly and to working in partnership to tackle harmful drinking. I'm therefore delighted to be part of the announcement today of the industry's new Alcohol Sponsorship Code; an example of partnership and effective self-regulation in action.
Most students, freed from the shackles of home for the very first time, simply hit the sauce far too hard and chain themselves to total booze-fuelled ineptitude and embarrassment. In the past term, I've taken bottles of smuggled in WKD from disgruntled internationals, and scraped passed out girls from the floor of the slightly dingy toilets.
What my sentient self does find troubling is the teetotal banality that accompanies a clinical trial. For ten days I will be quarantined in a room with no windows, no company and, terrifyingly, no alcohol other than the traces of solution used to sterilise the plethora of needles going in and out of my veins.
At the age of 26 my wife had walked out the door on our three year marriage. As I sat in our apartment surrounded by the life that we had built together my thoughts turned to a dark bleak future that I did not want to face. In a severe state of depression I turned to google and typed in the search term 'most painless and quickest way to die'.