Behind the photos: Addicted to losing weight
All she wanted was to be a healthy mum. But when Alice Sparks, 32, went from 16st to 7st 9lb, she was anything but…
As I sat at the computer in my living room, clicking through old photographs, I welled up with tears. With a loving partner and two beautiful boys, the screen should have been filled with scenes of our happy family. But all I could see was this incredibly unhappy woman staring back at me, one who I barely recognised.
I’ve struggled with my weight all my life. Even as a little girl, I loved food, snacking on chocolates, biscuits and cheese nibbled straight from the fridge. And when I entered my teens and had my own pocket money, my eating habits only got worse – walking home from school, I’d buy Mcdonald’s and pastries.
By the time I was 19, I was a size 16 – too large for my 5ft 6in frame. With my wobbly tummy and bingo wings, I felt so self-conscious. But then I met Patrick, then 23, on a night out, and he accepted me for who I was. ‘You’re gorgeous,’ he’d tell me.
Rushed to hospital
Within a few months, I found out I was expecting, and in a happy bubble, I used the pregnancy as an excuse to indulge my every craving.
As my belly grew, instead of having one custard cream, I’d devour a whole packet. By the time Edward was born on 12 August 2005, I was 17st and a size 22.
I was only 20, and felt disgusted with myself for getting so big. Yet, looking after a newborn, I was constantly exhausted, so during night feeds, I resorted to eating biscuits and cheese again – to keep my energy levels up. Come the morning, I’d polish off four slices of thick toast slathered with butter. And in the evening, I’d sleepily dial for a Chinese takeaway.
Before long, my size 22 trousers and tops were starting to pinch, and shopping trips to buy new clothes were a nightmare.
‘A size 22 is the highest we go,’ shop assistants told me, as my chubby cheeks flushed red. I felt so ashamed and headed home in floods of tears.
Feeling miserable, I attempted faddy diets. But they never worked – I’d lose some weight, then fall off the wagon again.
Then, when Edward was just four months, I found out I was expecting again. Although the pregnancy wasn’t planned, Patrick and I were delighted – we’d always wanted a brother or sister for our little boy.
But, at seven weeks, I suffered a bleed. Shocked and scared, we went to the doctors, who advised us to go to the hospital, where scans showed that I’d had a miscarriage.
Devastated, I crumpled into Patrick’s arms in tears. ‘If I’d been slimmer, maybe things would have been different,’ I cried. ‘It’s not your fault,’ Patrick soothed. Only, I couldn’t help but feel that my size was a factor. So, determined to get healthy, in February 2006, I joined a local slimming group.
Stepping on the scales, I winced as the dial sprung to 16st. But I vowed I’d never see that number again…
As I swapped my diet of biscuits and fast food for salads and stir-fries, a new-found determination took hold – and in the first week I lost 4lb.
Spurred on, I lost 2-3lb each week. And within just six months, thanks to
a combination of healthy eating and running around after Edward, I’d slimmed down to 10st.
To celebrate, I went shopping with my mum. Slipping into a slinky dress, I bounded out of the changing room. ‘It’s a size 10, Mum!’ I laughed. Having never been so slim in my life, I felt incredible, and family and friends showered me with compliments.
‘You look amazing! What’s your secret?’ they teased. ‘It’s easy. Just don’t eat a whole packet of biscuits!’ I giggled.
Two months later, I discovered I was expecting again. Patrick and I were so happy, and I vowed that I wasn’t going to binge like I had with Edward. ‘Things are going to be different this time,’ I said, placing a protective hand on my stomach.
So, as my pregnancy progressed, I didn’t snack, and when our baby boy George was born on 22 August 2007, I was pleased that I hadn’t gained any extra weight.
I became obsessed with setting a healthy example to my children, and in my mind, I thought being slim and watching what I ate made me a good role model.
But, looking back, I was being too strict, and as I nibbled on a tiny baked potato for lunch or had porridge for dinner after I’d fed the boys, it was no surprise that I got smaller and smaller.
Over time, food controlled my life just as it had before. If Patrick suggested that we go for a family meal out, I’d make up an excuse, scared that I wouldn’t be able to find low-calorie options on the menu. And on the boys’ birthdays, I’d barely eat a mouthful of cake.
By November 2011, I was down to just 7st 9lb. My once-flattering size 10 clothes hung off me like a tent. My hair was falling out and my gaunt cheeks were concerning my family. ‘Please eat more, you look so poorly,’ begged Mum and Patrick. At first, I brushed off their concerns, thinking that they were being overcautious. But that Christmas, I realised just how serious my condition had become. Shrouded in blankets with the heating on full blast, I was freezing, and as I rubbed my thin arms to try to warm up, it dawned on me… I’d become a sack of bones. Watching my two children giggling and playing together, while I barely had the strength to lift myself off the sofa, tears welled up. ‘What am I doing to myself?’ I thought, as I was hit with a wave of guilt and panic. ‘If I carry on like this, I’ll leave my children without a mum.’ In that moment, I knew I had to take action. So that night, when I made my boys their dinner, I served myself a plate full of pasta and forced myself to eat every mouthful. As we all sat together, I felt sad that we hadn’t enjoyed a family meal in so long.
Genuinely happy
Over the following months, I slowly upped my portion sizes and grazed on healthy snacks like fruit and yogurt. It wasn’t easy – some days I felt incredibly guilty for eating and worried I’d lose control again – but with Patrick’s support, my appetite grew and two years later, my size 10 clothes fit me again.
As my energy levels soared and colour flooded back in my cheeks, I realised how lucky I was to have two wonderful sons and a man who loved me unconditionally – no matter how big or small I was.
Now, I weigh 10st 7lb and am a dress size 10 – and, more importantly, I finally feel comfortable in myself. I love going for walks with Edward, now 12, and George, 10, and for meals out, and I know that from now on, when I smile for the camera, it will be because I’m genuinely happy.
It’s so scary how my weight fluctuated from one extreme to the other, but now I’ve finally found my ‘just right’.
‘Some days I felt incredibly guilty for eating’