Too fat to watch telly!
Kimberly Watson, 32, from London, was brimming with confidence – until her bulging frame brought reality crashing home
I was used to people being shocked by my luck with men
Grabbing my cocktail, I strolled over to a fella standing alone at the bar. ‘Hello, handsome,’ I said, winking. ‘Come here often?’
He flashed a smile and soon we were flirting.
Rejoining my girlfriends afterwards, one scoffed,
‘I don’t know how you do it!’
I was used to people being shocked by my luck with men.
While I was outgoing, bubbly and confident, I wasn’t exactly a supermodel.
At 16st and a size-20, I knew men probably preferred one of my skinny mates.
So I played up to it, filling the role of the fat, funny one.
The truth was, men liked it, finding me more approachable than my pretty friends.
‘And I just get them drunk if the flirting doesn’t work,’ I joked.
It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last.
I’d always been curvy, a size-14 teenager. But after having my kids – Hollie, 8, and Mason, 5 – the pounds piled on and never left me.
Now, in January 2014, I’d stopped caring about my size and accepted I was destined to always be the big and bubbly one in my group.
Days later, I was out and about in town when a woman handed me a leaflet.
Fight the festive flab, it read. The woman smiled, taking in my large frame, and I grinned back.
‘Oh, this isn’t just festive flab,’ I said, grabbing hold of a roll from my waist. ‘I have this all year round.’
The woman suddenly looked embarrassed.
But I wasn’t. Sometimes it felt like I was the only one who didn’t have a problem with my size.
I was single, yes, but I had a great social life and two perfect kids. I was happy with my lot.
Every Friday, I’d order a Chinese takeaway – and once the kids were in bed, I’d glug down a bottle of rose wine.
‘It would be nice if I had someone to share it with, though,’ I admitted to my mate Sarah, 29, one night.
Knowing that I was bored with pulling random men in bars, Sarah suggested I tried online dating.
‘Maybe you’ll meet someone decent,’ she said.
I signed up – and, in May, agreed to a dinner date with a gorgeous fella, Matt, 29.
We got on like a house on fire and fancied each other rotten.
‘You’re beautiful and curvy,’ he grinned. ‘Perfect!’
We didn’t stop talking the whole night – and before long, we were in a relationship.
Best of all, he got on so well with the kids – and a few months later he moved in.
Madly in love, we’d eat out four or five times a week and when we stayed in, we’d order a takeaway.
Flush with the excitement of our new romance, the last thing I worried about was my weight.
My clothes were getting a bit tight but it wasn’t until I got back from a family holiday in Turkey in August 2015 that I got a harsh wake-up call.
I’d felt fine on the trip, covered up in baggy maxi dresses.
But when Matt pinged me over a few snaps from the
The fat from my chin touched my chest. I felt I couldn’t breathe
holiday on my phone, I was taken aback.
Sitting on a bench in the blazing sun, I had rolls of flab hanging down from my arms and waist.
I looked enormous.
My face was bloated, my chin doubled.
‘I’m so fat,’
I gulped, appalled.
‘You’re fine,’ Matt said, rolling his eyes.
But that photo had said it all. I was obese. And for all these years, I’d been living in denial.
That night, I weighed myself for the first time in months. I’d ballooned to 17st 6lb. Feeling depressed, I slumped on the sofa beside Matt for a night in front of the telly.
We loved the soaps, or a good drama series. Would camp out on the sofa with a Chinese or Indian takeaway, a bar of chocolate and a bottle of wine.
Only now, I realised that Matt, being a typical man, could get away with the endless takeaways and sugary treats, while I couldn’t.
Not only that, but I’d started to feel increasingly uncomfortable slouched on the sofa in front of the telly.
I could feel the fat from my chin on my chest. It felt like I couldn’t breathe. Disgusted, I tucked my hand between my chest and chin.
But it dawned on me with horrifying clarity: Am I really too fat to watch TV?
In that moment, I knew I had to make some serious changes and get my weight under control.
Easier said than done. For months, I ignored the problem, sitting in front of the TV with my hand squeezed between my double chin and my chest.
It felt ridiculous.
I tried dieting, spent a fortune on various diet teas and milkshakes, but nothing worked.
It wasn’t until September
2017, scrolling through Facebook, that I spotted an advert for the Terriann 123 Diet Plan.
Made up of three distinct stages, something about it felt right. Just the dramatic change I needed.
When I first started, I craved salt and sugar, wanted to cry when I couldn’t have my takeaways and wine.
‘I know I need to do this,’ I groaned to Matt.
‘It’ll be worth it,’ he said, supportive.
Working long shifts as a maternity care assistant, I missed my sugary cups of tea and biscuits on my breaks.
But I stuck to the diet – and by December 2017, I’d lost 2st.
I whizzed around the hospital ward, full of energy.
As the months went on, I lost more and more weight.
‘There’s so much more room on this sofa!’ I laughed to Matt six months later in June 2018, when I weighed 14st 6lb.
Gone were the days of having to separate my neck from my chest!
Every night, I’d cook something healthy from scratch, like a vegetable and lean-meat kebab or a beef burger (no bun!) and a side salad.
The kids loved the food – and Matt had no complaints either.
‘You’re not a big mummy now,’ Mason, 9, grinned.
In October 2018, I joined the gym and finally got to my goal weight of 12st and a size-12.
I’m so happy now, I feel like a different person.
When my picture is taken, I expect to see a fat person in the photo... and instead see this new, slimmer version of myself.
I’ve learnt so much about my body and what it truly needs, rather than just mindlessly reaching for junk food.
I still love to slob out in front of the TV from time to time, only now I’m much more comfortable doing it!