I'm in.
No idea what I actually weigh, but it's somewhere between 17 and 20 stone, I would imagine. I'm a size 18 clothes, though.
Cause - a combination of rebound from teenage ED (due to being told I was fat and ugly as a child), hormonal contraception, periods of extreme skintness where I would steal milk from the workplace fridge to keep me alive, arthritis stopping me from exercising hard every other day, wanting to be too heavy for the ex to pick me up by the throat ever again and a very lovely DP who is a feeder, mainly to try and distract away from his own ED, and can't see that vegetables are an essential part of the human diet when there is beige stuff and Haribo in the world.
He reckons he's treating me to a posh gym membership for my birthday, as I absolutely love the places, the smell of chlorine, the aircon, the steam rooms, saunas and the ability to switch my brain off for a couple of hours to concentrate upon music and what my body is doing.
Once I'm doing that regularly (which I will as he's paying for it), hopefully I'll have more strength and energy, as the extra weight, inactivity from pain (around 6000 steps most days at work, occasional 18,000 for long shifts, but fuck all at weekends or when I get home), and I'll be far more likely to be able to encourage him to actually cook what I like than what he thinks counts as a meal.