Flicking through a photo album, I stopped at a picture taken four years previously on our local beach. ‘Look,’ I said, pulling my son, Hunter, then four, onto my knee. ‘That’s Mummy cuddling you when you were just a baby,’ I smiled, pointing to the little bundle in my arms. Only, Hunter frowned.
‘That’s not you, that lady is very fat,’ Hunter said, scrunching up his face in confusion. ‘Does that mean you’re not my real mummy?’ he sniffed, his voice suddenly wobbling and tears welling. Shocked, it was only then it sunk in that I’d changed so much, my own son didn’t recognise me.
Growing up, I’d always been taller and broader than my friends. By 16, at 6ft 3in and 18st, it was a struggle to find school uniforms to fit. Towering over not just the girls, but the boys in my class, too, made me horribly self-conscious.
I’d always had a big appetite, enjoying pasta, pizza and puddings. But, feeling upset about my appearance, I’d also comfort myself with chocolate and extra helpings of my favourite cheesecake.
By the time I went to college in September 2010, I was 19st and size 20. But that didn’t deter fellow student Leroy Maxwell, then 20. We were friends, then started dating and became inseparable.
Within a year, we were living in our own place, snuggling on the sofa every night with takeaway curries and Chinese food. By then, I was working as a hotel housekeeper. I enjoyed my job but struggled being on my feet all day due to my size. By the end of each shift,I’d be sweaty and breathless.
I kept telling myself to tackle my weight, then in March 2012, Leroy gave me more reason to do so. ‘Will you marry me?’ he asked during a walk on Nairn Beach, near our home. ‘Of course!’ I replied, tearfully.
This story is from the January 12, 2021 edition of WOMAN'S OWN.
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This story is from the January 12, 2021 edition of WOMAN'S OWN.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
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