Lost 13st but I hate this!
I lost 13st the hard way... Surely my crepey apron should go, too?
Scrolling through the dating website, I felt a wave of resignation swamp me. What’s the point? I thought, shutting my computer. No-one’s ever going to want me, I’m too fat. I’d been single for two years since my boyfriend left me. And, 28st and a size-30, I was convinced I’d stay that way forever. I’d always been big. I loved everything that I shouldn’t – and lots of it! By my teens, I weighed more than 20st and, by my twenties, I tipped the scales at 28st. I’d start the day with a huge bowl of sugary cereal and full-fat milk. By mid-morning, I’d be snacking on crisps and biscuits at my desk. Lunch was instant noodles with thicklybuttered bread. For dinner, I’d guzzle fried bacon and chips, and even more buttery bread. Then I’d scoff biscuits, chocolate and sweets. I knew I had a problem. But I had a boyfriend and a job I loved as a mental-health support worker, so was in denial about being morbidly obese. When my relationship ended, that denial came crashing down. While we didn’t finish because of my weight, my self-esteem took a battering.
I gave Internet dating a go, and went on some dates.
But I couldn’t overcome my confidence issues, convinced anyone who liked me must be desperate themselves.
Then, in January 2016, I noticed my colleague Caroline had slimmed down – she’d joined a dieting group, looked fantastic. I felt a pang of jealousy. Maybe it was time for me to do something about my weight – for my self-esteem and health.
I was borderline diabetic and had polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS).
So, that night, I did my own research, but decided I’d have to lose weight the old-fashioned way – by calorie counting.
I came across Nutracheck and signed up. It’s a food-diary app and website that helps you track your diet and make better food choices.
It was great, and I soon got into the swing of things.
My big fear about dieting had always been giving up grub I loved for bland, boring food.
But I soon learned it was about moderation.
Having a takeaway twice a month, instead of twice a week, for example.
And, with the help of the app, I was able to count calories effectively and learn to be strict with myself. I also joined a gym. Initially, I was terrified – convinced it’d be full of tiny, sporty women sniggering at me as I sweated and panted in my frumpy gym wear.
But no-one batted an eyelid – and there were people of all shapes and sizes.
Once I realised there was nothing to worry about, I started going a few times a week.
Soon, it didn’t seem like a chore, but a place to clear my head and burn energy.
After a few months’ hard graft, I really started to see and feel changes.
My face was the first place it was noticeable. Finally, I had some bone structure, my eyes looked bigger and more defined.
I’d always worn long skirts, as even the baggiest trousers clung to my stomach. Now, the skirts were starting to get loose. Then came the compliments. ‘You’re looking really slim, Maria!’ colleagues said to me.
I still had a long way to go, but the praise spurred me on. My confidence was growing, too.
Then, in September, for the first time in years, I found I weighed less than 20st.
Giving Internet dating another try, I met Graham, 37.
We clicked right away. I’d been lonely for so long, but felt like a new person with him in my life.
One night, I decided to broach the subject of my weight loss.
‘I used to be really, really big. And I’m still a way off my goal,’ I told him self-consciously.
‘You look gorgeous to me,’ he replied.
I showed Graham photos of me at my biggest, but he didn’t recoil. Instead, he supported my quest to lose more weight but made it clear he loved me no matter what my size.
Then, as the pounds fell off, the skin around my arms, my thighs and tum became saggy.
I looked amazing in my
It’d cost £8,000 to have the surgery privately
new clothes – but, naked, I looked like a deflated balloon.
Though I realised this was the trade-off for losing weight, this April I asked my GP about the possibility of surgery.
Explaining how I’d shed around 13st, I revealed my apron of crepey skin.
It seemed I might only be able to have Nhs-funded surgery to remove the skin if I kept the weight off for five years or had a gastric band op. I’d have to wait to hear if I qualified.
It seemed so unfair if I was to be penalised for having worked hard and lost weight the slow, arduous way.
And five years also seemed a ridiculously long time to wait, if that was the case.
All I could do was wait and see, and just hope I qualified for funded surgery.
Now, I’m technically at my goal weight of 13st. I’m 15st, but 2st of that is saggy skin.
I try not to let it make me miserable, and Graham still tells me I’m beautiful, but I won’t give up my quest for surgery.
I’m still waiting to hear back. It costs around £8,000 to have it done privately, though, and I don’t have that money. But I’ll find a way. I’ve come so far, I think I deserve it.