My belly was so big it snapped my bones!
And if I hid the evidence, the calories didn’t count, right?
My bones had cracked under the weight of my body
Bent in half,
I stuck my head in the freezer and rummaged through the icy shelves.
Mmm, pizza,
I thought, pulling out the oven-ready box, along with some nuggets and chips.
After cooking up the feast, I piled two plates high and carried them to my bedroom, where me and my boyfriend, Rowan, then 21, tucked in.
It was June 2016, and as we lived with my parents, this was our daily routine.
When I got home from my sales-assistant job, they’d already had their tea.
Rowan and I had been together eight months.
But we’d known each other since school, and soon settled into a comfortable pattern.
For breakfast and lunch I ate pastries from Greggs. In the evening, if it wasn’t a freezer feast, we’d have Indian, Chinese, or a kebab and chips.
On nights Rowan had to work at his carer job, I’d invite friends over.
For a takeaway.
‘I’ve not had one for over a week!’ I’d fib.
Then hide the pizza boxes so Rowan couldn’t see them. Once they were out of sight, it was almost as if I hadn’t had them. It was costing me £600 a month and the toll wasn’t just on my wallet.
On my feet at work, I quickly felt worn out.
Then, in November 2018, we had a mini-break in Cornwall.
I couldn’t wait to stroll around the Eden Project.
Only, soon, my feet were achy and bruised.
‘Must be my trainers,’ I said
But two weeks later, when it was no better, the doctor sent me for an X-ray.
‘You’ve broken your foot in two places,’ he said.
My bones had cracked under the weight of my body – I was mortified.
Rowan wasn’t overweight, wasn’t secretly binging like me, but he worried. ‘We need to eat more healthily,’ he’d say.
‘I know,’ I’d sigh. ‘Let’s start on Monday.’
Of course, we never did. In December 2019, we
visited London to see
The Lion King.
At Covent Garden Tube, we took the steps to street level rather than the busy lift. All 193 of them.
I had to stop five times, huffing and puffing as people squeezed past.
My heart thumped in my chest and I was terrified.
I wasn’t even 25, but I could barely breathe.
Shortly after, a letter arrived reminding me to book a routine smear test.
‘I have to lose weight first,’ I told Rowan, putting it off.
Going to the doctor always made me feel anxious.
But I wasn’t the only one worried about my health.
And over Christmas dinner, my grandma, Carol, 76, didn’t hold back.
‘If you get poorly, you won’t survive,’ she said. I changed the subject. But back home, I sobbed. I now wore size 30 leggings and men’s 6XL tops.
I’d broken my own bones because I was heavy and was dodging the doctor because I was scared for my health.
Enough was enough.
Now we cook fakeaways from scratch
Feeling riled up, in January 2020, I roped a friend into joining Slimming World with me.
Sitting in the car beforehand, we scoffed brownies.
‘This is the last bad thing we’re eating!’ I said.
Wiping the crumbs from my chops, I walked into the meeting excited but scared.
Standing on the scales, I felt sick as I read the number: 21st ½lb.
That same day I stocked up on fruit, veggies and fresh groceries.
With our cupboards bursting, we had no excuse for a takeaway.
And Rowan was willing to try my new recipes and support me when I slipped.
I created an Instagram account to document my weight loss, too. Hoped it would help when I needed encouragement or to be held accountable. In the mornings, I marched past the bakers, perfectly satisfied by the fresh fruit salad I’d eaten for brekkie.
My lunch consisted of salad or a wrap, prepared at home.
Rowan and I cooked our evening meals from scratch.
Enjoyed ‘fakeaways’ – recreating our favourite dishes without the grease.
Filling our plates with less food and more veg.
We’d make enough to have leftovers for the next day, too.
Both with busy jobs, it required planning and prepping to ensure it didn’t take us a long time to cook.
But we were soon in a good routine.
The weight gradually melted away, and many times I was awarded Slimmer of the Week!
By June, I’d hit my target of 15st.
I was thrilled I’d shrunk to a size 16.
Using all the money I’d saved on takeaways, I treated myself to new clothes that I’d never had the chance to wear before, like jumpsuits.
Shortly after, I started using an app, MyFitnessPal, to log my calories and workouts.
I had a balanced diet of 1,400 calories a day, then figured out that on my previous diet of junk food and takeaways,
I must have been consuming nearer 4,000!
No wonder my weight was so out of control, I thought.
My Instagram account was buzzing.
And, yes, I finally booked that smear test.
Luckily it came back clear but I felt like a fool for putting it off for too long.
Then, on our fiveyear anniversary in October, Rowan asked me to marry him.
Of course, I said yes. When COVID-19 restrictions allow, I meet my friend at the gym several times a week.
And I go for a run every Saturday.
Now, I’m a size 12, weigh 12st 12lb.
And I’ve never felt better.
It’s hard to plan a wedding during the current pandemic, but Rowan and I hope to tie the knot in October 2022.
Once, shopping for a wedding dress would have filled me with dread.
Now, I can’t wait to find the perfect one!
Follow Karla’s journey on Instagram @keeping upwithkarla__.