During my teens and twenties, I was a size 10-12, I was active, sporty, and didn’t think much about my weight or what I’d eat. I’d always had some hormone issues (due to polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS)), which just meant I was a hairier chick than most, but apart from that I was healthy.
I got pregnant 10 years ago when I was 30, and went up to a size 14 when my daughter was born… Major (MAJOR) complications in her birth left me with a loss of 3 pints of blood, over 100 internal stitches, and unable to walk for 3 months. Don’t ask!
Over that next year, I went up to a size 20, and stayed there pretty much until 2016, when I went up to a size 22. When I first put on the weight, I kept thinking to myself, when I’m more active again, the weight will come off. When I discussed my concerns with my GP, she said weight loss can come later, your priority is getting well, and nourishing the baby – and I agreed. I wasn’t anxious about the weight gain, I’m not very vain, and hey, I’m cute! 😛
I really was so sure that once I got back to work, and higher activity levels, I’d be ok. I wasn’t going to have a BMI of over 35 for ever. More and more people I knew (and even some strangers) would comment on my weight, or tease me, or shame me, and it upset me sometimes, but that’s really their issue, not mine. People who truly cared about me, supported and encouraged me.
Skip 4 years later, and I returned to work – walking lots, racing between client offices and school runs, and I was energised, and certain my weight would come down…
WRONG. I wasn’t losing weight. I was so confused.
I spent the next 6 years trying various diets, exercise programmes, personal trainers etc. And I’d lose between 6 and 8 kg at a time…
About 3 years ago, a doctor in my family suggested obesity surgery, and I was so offended, and was totally against the idea. What a cop out.
Obesity surgery was something other people had.