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Too fat to cuddle

Before I knew it, my eating gave me a BIG problem...


Published by: Georgina Horton and Polly Taylor
Published on: 16th August 2010

Huffing and puffing, I pushed the heaving supermarket trolley towards the checkout. Cakes, crisps, chocolate, cheese – it was all in there. And lots of it!
‘Having a party, love?’ the cashier chuckled, as I loaded my treats on to the conveyor belt.
‘Er, something like that,’ I mumbled, my chubby face turning pink. Truth was, all of this food was for me.
Loading my goodies into carrier bags, I heard someone sniggering beside me.
‘Look at that lot!’ a man sneered, nudging his pal and peering into my trolley. ‘No wonder she’s so fat!’
Back at home, tears streaming down my face, I munched through a packet of biscuits, the waistband of my size 34 trousers bulging.
I was trapped in a vicious circle. I ate because I was unhappy – but I was unhappy because I ate.
You’ve probably heard it all before, but I hadn’t always been like this. When I left school, I’d been a slim size 12.
But I’d piled on the pounds while I was pregnant with my son Jamie, now 22 – and even more with my daughter Charley, 17.
Then, when Charley was two, my marriage broke down  – the perfect excuse to carry on eating.
My problems didn’t stop there. When he was five, Jamie was diagnosed with Asperger’s – a type of autism. The condition made him hyperactive, he had daily tantrums.
Every time he screamed at me, I reached straight for the biscuit tin – that’s how I coped with things.
Then I’d comfort Jamie in the only way that seemed to work – with a big, squishy hug.
As soon as he wrapped his arms around me, he’d relax.
‘Cuddle, Mummy,’ he’d say.
Over the years, I tried every diet going – Weight Watchers, Atkins, cabbage soup… But I’d soon give up. Dieting just made life so dull!
My motto quickly became ‘I’d rather be fat and happy than skinny and miserable!’
Before long, I’d managed to balloon to a size 34.
My doctor kept telling me I was putting my health at risk. ‘The strain on your joints is massive,’ he warned. My knees were crumbling under my weight, I’d had more operations on them than I could remember.
My weight badly affected my family life as well. One weekend, I took the kids to a theme park. Lining up for the rollercoaster, Jamie squeezed my hand with excitement. ‘Loop the loop!’ he winked.
I heaved myself into a seat in the front carriage and then stretched my arms above my head to pull down the safety harness.
But it was no good. I was too fat and the harness wouldn’t click into place.
Sucking in my stomach, I tried again. Nope. Nowhere near. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to get off, love,’ the attendant said. ‘It’s not safe.’ The look of disappointment on Jamie’s face broke my heart.
Later that evening, Jamie came over and cuddled me – but his arms barely reached halfway around me. ‘You can’t fit on the rollercoaster, Mum,’ he said, sadly. ‘And now I can’t fit around you.’
I thought my heart would burst. How had I let this happen? All my son ever asked for was a cuddle – and now I couldn’t give him that.
It was time to act. I went to see the doctor to talk about my options. ‘Why don’t you try a gastric band?’ he suggested.
No chance! I’d had enough operations over the years, there was no way I was going under the knife for this. ‘I want to lose the weight myself,’ I told him.
That night, I logged on to the internet to research my options. Scrolling through pages and pages of diet websites, I saw something that caught my eye.
The Cambridge Diet was a meal replacement plan and promised fast and effective weight loss.
It sounded promising. The next day, I met with a Cambridge Diet counsellor, Jenni Bell. ‘Hop on the scales,’ she smiled.
Gingerly, I stepped on. Closing my eyes, I expected the worst. ‘I’m sorry, Lisa,’ the counsellor said kindly. ‘I’m afraid these scales can’t take your weight.’
‘Er, right,’ I said. The limit was 25st – and I was over it.
My weight was literally off the scale.
The following week, I got weighed at the hospital on its industrial-sized scales. ‘27st…!’ I gasped. It was the shock that I needed – I became determined to shed the flab.
Meeting with Jenni for the second time, I listened carefully as she explained the diet. I was to replace my meals with shakes and soups – solid food would be reintroduced later.
In my first week, I stuck at it, and felt hunger for the first time in years. Instead of my usual mountain of buttered toast each day, I had coffee and one of my special shakes.
Crisps, sandwiches, takeaways – I replaced them all with diet shakes. I even started to enjoy them!
In that first week, I lost 8lb – in a month, more than 1st. Then 14 months later, I reached
my goal weight – 14st.
I bought a whole new wardrobe of clothes – and discovered I could even fit into my daughter’s skirts!
‘Give it back, Mum!’ Charley giggled, as I paraded around in one of her skin-tight numbers.
But, believe it or not, the biggest reward of all came from a hug – not a figure-hugging skirt.
Standing at the kitchen sink doing the washing up one day, I felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around my waist. ‘I can fit all the way around!’ Jamie said, clasping his hands in front of my flat tum.
I might not be as cuddly as I once was, but now I can give one hell of a hug!
Lisa Harborne, 41, Rugby, Warwickshire