It took a trip to Greece to get Reece Levy, 26, from Wickford, to see the truth…

Pouring steaming gravy over crispy roast potatoes, my mouth watered. ‘This looks delicious,’ I smiled to my girlfriend Amy, 23. ‘You’ve really outdone yourself this time.’

It was November 2017, and Amy had been slaving away in the kitchen all day, whipping up a spectacular Sunday roast for the pair of us.

‘So how was the game?’ she asked, plunging her fork into a juicy carrot.

‘Really good,’ I smiled, my mouth full.

That morning, I’d been at rugby practice.

A group of us lads would get together twice a week for a game, and it was a great way to blow off some steam and take a break from my job as a scaffolder.

With an active job and the rugby practice, a big roast dinner was just what I needed.

In fact, I was always eating huge

Amy is so supportive meals – I had to sustain myself!

Most days would start off with a bowl of porridge, followed by a Tesco meal deal for lunch at work.

Throughout the day I’d snack on crisps, biscuits and chocolates, before a big helping of lasagne, shepherd’s pie or toad in the hole for dinner. Amy and I would usually get a greasy takeaway at least once a week, and I always looked forward to a huge tasty roast dinner on Sundays.

Needless to say, I was a fairly big lad – but I was active and healthy, so it never really bothered me.

That was until one day later that month, when disaster struck.

Grabbing for the ball during rugby practice, a hefty opponent landed on top of me, bulldozing me to the ground.

Pinned to the grass, I heard the crunch before I felt the pain – and before I knew it, I was being rushed to the local hospital with a broken foot.

While it wasn’t lifethreatening, my injury meant I was signed off work – and rugby – for six weeks, and I found myself sat at home,

I was in denial feeling rather sorry for myself. While my mishap had stopped me from being active, it didn’t stop me from eating.

And with not much else to keep me busy, eating was all I did. Over the next few weeks, I continued to eat huge portions of food, just as before.

The problem was, without getting any regular exercise, the pounds started to pile on.

Even when I went back to work a few weeks later, my appetite was insatiable, and I was eating more than ever.

I knew I was getting bigger, but I’d become stuck in a rut.

Even when I started getting out of breath at work, had trouble sleeping and even developed asthma, I didn’t do anything about it.

I was in denial. Losing weight was always tomorrow’s problem.

And anyway,

Amy never seemed to mind.

We were happy, and that’s all that mattered.

‘Got your passport?’ she asked a few months later, as we headed out the door with our suitcases in hand.

In September 2018, we were jetting off to the Greek island of Kos, where my mum Sally, 54, was set to marry her partner Pete, 70.

I was looking forward to getting away, soaking up the sun, and of course, being a groomsman.

The day of the wedding was gorgeous, and Mum looked stunning in her dress with the beautiful beach behind her.

And after saying their vows, it was time for photos.

‘Big smiles!’ the photographer

I loved my big Sunday roasts