What’s it like to carry so much weight?

Despite all my hang-ups, at school I wasn’t every really bullied for being fat. Yes of course it came up as general “you’re not cool, we are” but was rarely the focus of it. I do remember one stereotypical bully say to me “what’s it like to carry so much weight?” which got me thinking of how much being fat had always been part of my life.

So today my weight had dropped to the lowest it has been since I was 17. That is 26kg of a difference since I started my diet last year. I have 10kg to go towards my goal and yes it will go up and down but it makes me feel very positive.

I always thought I was fat at school but, with hindsight, was I was seventeen I wasn’t excessively so. But in my family I was the chubby last child. Without overstating the point, my siblings and I all have issues with weight and our body confidence which have all manifested differently.

I was trying on my kilt yesterday for a wedding next week. The kilt is beautiful and was hand-woven for my grandfather. I always remembered him being chubby but the photographs and kilt suggest otherwise. Even with my weight loss I am still nearly at the maximum strap lengths. It is comfortable enough to spend the day in but also encourages me to lose that bit more. When I opened the sporran I found my old business cards from when I worked in Parliament. The last time I wore the kilt was at a prestigious Burns’ Supper in the House of Lords. I had been on the Cambridge Diet and was about 97kg and from then began the gradual increase to my heaviest at 119kg.

Where I carry weight seems to change too. I don’t think I’ve ever had a waist-line but nowadays I seem to carry most weight just below it and I’m struggling to shift it. Being that bit older too I have the unpleasant reality of stretch marks to contend with as the skin is less responsive than how it used to be. Indeed I recall a TV programme where a chap underwent cosmetic surgery because, after a substantial weight loss, he was unable to shift from this final area. He undertook the surgery because he wanted mental satisfaction in knowing he had done as much as he could. I have always seen surgery as an admission of failure and am disturbed that for many it seems to be the first option rather than last. But I completely understand where this chap was coming from – his years of hard work had paid off and perhaps this final act was some sort of reward.

Today I’m heading to a birthday party in Oxford where I will see the dietician who pointed me in the right direction nearly two years ago. She works with pre obesity operation patients and was wonderful in talking me through the options – including xenical. Xenical helped me hugely but I have a lot of satisfaction in knowing that the last few kilos were down to me.

The tone of this post seems to have turned towards a reflection on something completed. I still have quite far to go – ten more kilos to my goal of 83kg. And even 83kg is relatively heavy. I love seeing the numbers go down on the scale and of course get disheartened when they go the other way, which they do from time to time.  It took just under a week to get back to what I was before I went to Scotland, and with a holiday in Berlin looming I am realistic in what can be achieved.

Del Boy may have wanted to be a millionaire this time next year, which wouldn’t be bad either, this time next year I hope to weight even less than I do now.

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