I'll always remember June 2, 2014, as the day my life fell apart. My mother had recently been diagnosed with terminal cancer and been given just three months to live.
Libido shoots through the roof. Sleep gets deeper. Muscles look fuller. Fat melts faster. In all my years, I have never encountered anything as promising - or as reckless.
We're sick. Catastrophically so. Over the last 50 years, rates of chronic disease have exploded. Our nation is literally collapsing under the weight of its own diet.
The other day I went to see a plastic surgeon who just happens to be Beverly Hills' best-kept secret. You won't find him on Instagram - he doesn't do it. He's a word-of-mouth kind of doctor...