My year of learning to love my body
At over 21st, Birmingham mum of four Debbie Wattis knew she had to lose weight. Here’s how she lost over 5 stone by keeping a diary
In my wardrobe, I once had over 100 cardigans – almost all were black. As a size 28 and 21st 5lbs, I relied on them to hide behind. And they weren’t the only things I hid behind. I also had a good line in jokes at my expense to stop anyone getting in there first.
If someone took a photo, I’d quip, ‘You’ll need to take a few panoramic shots to get me in!’ But inside I was crying.
It was a photograph that first made me self-conscious. I was 12 and on holiday with another family who had two boys. Mum wanted to photograph me in a new bikini she made me wear. I didn’t want to, but she snapped anyway and the boys laughed. I can still hear their sniggering.
I had no more than puppy fat, but I felt exposed.
In my memory it’s where my disordered eating started, although it’s never that simple.
I had a happy childhood with a supportive family, but I was bullied for being dyslexic and overweight. I compared myself to my sportier, chattier siblings and had cripplingly low selfesteem. I’d eat for comfort because I wasn’t in control of my emotions. I’d then get upset that I’d eaten and eat again… It was a vicious circle.
For the next 30 years, I’d secretly binge eat, hiding chocolate and biscuits under my bed or in cupboards. I loved potatoes, and I’d have pizza or burgers if we ate out. By the time I was 18, I weighed 18st.
I’d try to diet, but when it stalled, I’d go back to old ways.
In denial, I’d say that I just put on weight easily and didn’t even eat much, or that I had big bones. I’d blame my hormones or my under-active thyroid. As for the lack of exercise, I’d say at 5ft 9in I was too tall to run. I had an answer for everything…
The lightest I got was 15st on my wedding day in November 1996. Matt, now 46, was my first serious boyfriend. Forever supportive, he’s always told me I’m beautiful.
But over the years, my weight crept up. I couldn’t walk more than a few metres without gasping and getting up from the sofa would take 10 minutes. I had sleep apnoea and had to use a breathing machine.
Emotionally, I wasn’t great either – I’d get irritated and snappy, even with our four adopted boys. Sadly, Matt and I couldn’t have children, but they’re brothers who came to us young. When they arrived, I gave up work in my hair salon and loved them fiercely, but it wasn’t always easy.
Matt and my parents would
beg me to lose weight for my sake, but it felt too difficult. Then, at the end of 2015, Matt was offered an amazing job, but the hours would’ve been too long. He turned it down to support me. It made me think – if he was prepared to make such a huge sacrifice, I needed to sort myself out.
I vowed to start on New Year’s Day 2016. My goal downloaded a fitness app and weighed myself. I was horrified to find I was 21st 5lbs.
On a 1,200-calories-a-day diet, I cut out junk food and hired a personal trainer.
Within a month, I’d dropped nearly a stone. I didn’t feel that I was tackling it properly though, so I hired a nutritionist, Jen Adams, who put me on a detox plan. I felt physically ill withdrawing from sugar. By day four, I was giddy and shaky. I ended up in floods of tears over lunch and had to go to bed.
After that, dieting became much easier. My clothes
camera.
I could do up my shoelaces. Exercising became easy, I’d walk, swim, cycle, even running. And cardigans were banished – unless it was cold!
My relationship with Matt and the children improved. We talked in a way that we hadn’t for years.
Then in August 2016, we all climbed Mount Snowdon together. It was one of my long-term goals (although privately I’d classed it as ‘Mission Impossible’). I cried at the top.
By Dad’s 70th, I’d hit my goal and lost 75lbs. He was so proud.
By the end of the year, I’d lost a total of 5st 7lbs and had rediscovered my self-worth. Through writing about my feelings and drawing pictures every day, I came to know myself better. And I knew setting goals kept me motivated. So, in 2017 I ran a half-marathon in Rwanda. In 2018, I tackled Kenya.
Then, in March 2019, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. They caught it early and I had the lump removed. But it was tough to exercise afterwards as my body seized up and I needed rehab to help. I struggled with the shock of the diagnosis and I went back to secret biscuits.
One night, Matt mentioned it. Before, I’d have stonewalled him, but this time, I opened up, explaining how alone I’d felt.
He hugged me and that helped hugely. I stopped eating in secret and in June 2019, I was signed off treatment.
Now, at 49, if it hadn’t been for what I’d gone through in those few years, 2020 would have been a struggle for me. But I’ve managed to keep myself happy and sane because of the lessons I learned. I feel like I’ve turned from a caterpillar into a butterfly. That sort of transformation makes you believe you can do anything – and you really can.
My Year in Pictures by Debbie Wattis is on sale