Because PCOS also (for various complicated hormonal reasons) makes you – though this isn’t quite how the doctor puts it – fat and hairy. And that made me incandescently happy. This is because it meant that those two things weren’t my fault. I hadn’t realised how ashamed I had felt of them, how much they had preyed on my mind and weighed (pardon the pun) on my conscience, until I felt the burden lift.

The fact that a reasonable diet had not been enough to keep me slim or that if distracted from my depilatory duties for one minute I could go on as Mr Tumnus the faun in any local production of The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe without requiring a costume was Not. My. Fault.

They were the product of A Condition that had been visited upon me by a cruel or careless fate! It really and truly – praise the Lord and pass the tissues so that I can wipe the tears of joy running down my jowly face – was my glands. My body literally could not respond to the efforts being made to alter it, for reasons that could have long-term effects on my health, quality and span of life and ability to bear children. Overall, a resounding hurrah for that!

Januhairy: why women are readily embracing their body hair this month