I was warned about getting fat when I approached size 10 at 5’6
in 1975 aged 14
I was put on a diet of celery and cottage cheese. I remember girls, including me, making sure their hip bones were prominent.
’Double figures’ were considered huge in weight standards.
I had a size 12 friend who was called ‘Lurch’ or ‘fat cow’ by local lads.
We were working class - food was not abundant and mum had two jobs : one in a biscuit factory and Saturdays in Marks.
Every day she had a small piece of cheddar and an apple until dinner.
My mum was persecuted by my dad about her weight. ‘Fairy elephant’ or ‘look at the size of her dripping with fat,’ are a small sample of the insults she endured while working her guts out fuelled by that bit of cheddar and apple.
My family still eye each other up for fatness. I have a cousin who tells me she’s told her daughter in law over and over that she’s a ‘friggin’ docker’ and is angry that she doesn’t lose weight. (They don’t speak)
I had an aunt who lived on ‘Limits’ and sometimes gave me an orange flavoured Limit biscuit for dinner when I stayed with her.
I could write a book with these stories…
I have no problem in admitting I would hate to be overweight now that I am the age of one of my favourite Beatles song.
It’s easier to stay mobile and fit and despite surviving an extremely tough life including two different types of cancer I can cycle and go to body pump classes - I love this.
I have seen my twenty plus stone brother whose nick name for me has always been ‘fat head’, ‘fat face’ and ‘fat ugly cow’ suffer physically and mentally with his weight.
He has life threatening heart problems and can only walk with a stick and is in constant pain.