As a teenager I was horribly thin, had a mouth full of big frilly teeth, wore unflattering National Health glasses and was cursed with drab, beige hair that refused to curl, no matter what my mother did to it.
That was the external packaging —but inside, I was 100 per cent rebel.
Mother Nature might have given me unpromising raw material, but I realised at 12 that my brain — not the size of my bust — was my ultimate weapon.
I swiftly honed an evil sense of humour and a ruthless streak of competitiveness. Daredevil Janet would (and still will) stop at nothing to succeed in life.
I grew up in a household with a rule for everything, from not speaking at meal times, to what length of skirt was permitted.
Dad would check me in and check me out at night, having scrutinised my attire. (His catchphrase seemed to be: ‘You’re not b****y well going out looking like that!)
It was a bit like being in the Army, without the uniform. The modern equivalent of my mum and dad is Michelle Obama, who has admitted she’s banned Facebook for her daughters (aged 13 and 11), forbidden computer and television viewing during the week and only let her eldest daughter have a mobile when she reached 12.
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