I’d agree in some aspect that yes, it is a choice - in that we choose what we eat and how much and how often. But I think it’s more complex than that and it’s not always a conscious choice.
I’m 25, 5’4 and 16 and a half stone. I absolutely hate it, but I’m at the point where I’m not ready to do anything about it just yet. But my history with weight issues is very long and complex.
My mum has always had disordered eating, dieting every other week and constantly talking about weight so I think growing up I got into that mindset as a kid. From the age of 5, my dad would constantly tell me I was ‘too fat’ to wear things and when we went swimming every weekend it wouldn’t be fun, I had to do 30 lengths to lose weight. I was five. I remember vividly trying on a swimsuit and him looking at me in disgust and telling me I couldn’t wear it as I was far too far for it.
During my teenage years I was around a size 10-12 but I was self-conscious and constantly dieting and comparing myself to other girls. It was especially upsetting when boys would tell me I had ‘tree trunk legs’ and when someone saw me online would say she’s ‘fatter in person’.
When I was 15 I developed bulimia. I had never had a healthy relationship with food and I started making myself sick after every meal and rationing myself to 500 calories a day. Until it got to the evening and I would binge until I felt sick. Then I would throw it all up and self-harm as a punishment and a reminder not to do it again.
A year later vomit got caught in my lungs and caused bacterial pneumonia. My lung collapsed. I was in hospital for three weeks on a ventilator, and during this time I lost so much weight. I was about a size 6 and I loved it, to me nearly dying was worth it to be so skinny.
My disordered eating continued though, and when I got into a new relationship I started only eating what he ate, when he ate. I would track his calories and mine so that I was always eating less than him. I’m not sure why, but it was another form of control. I remember one time we went out to eat and I wanted chilli and he wanted a mixed grill, which I don’t even like. But I ordered it because I didn’t know how many calories the chilli had and I was scared that there was more than there was in his meal.
Over the next year I continued losing weight. I was about a size 4. I actually started eating more and I was still losing it. I was thrilled. However I had developed symptoms like rectal bleeding, abdominal pain and constipation. It turns out the reason I was losing so much weight was because I had ulcerative colitis, and one day my bowel perforated and it had to be removed and I was given a stoma bag.
After the diseased bowel was removed I started gaining weight again, and it got out of control and I gained about two stone. I would frequently do no carb diets to lose it quickly, because I struggle with calorie counting because I get too anxious doing it without obsessing.
My relationship ended up being very unhappy and sexless and I would emotional eat and binge as a way to fill my emptiness. I felt like I had nobody to look good for so it didn’t matter anyway, right?
We split up and I met my partner now. I was about 12 stone and a size 14. He loved my body and made me feel so confident, and for the first time in my life I felt good.
However, I had been put on mental health medication for bipolar disorder and OCD, and my weight kept creeping up as the medication was notorious for weight gain - I was even put on metformin to try and lose it.
Six months later I got pregnant, had a complicated pregnancy and developed gestational diabetes and hypertension. I gained four stone in my pregnancy.
I’m now 14 weeks postpartum and fat. Nobody wants to call me fat because they don’t want to hurt my feelings but I am. And I want to lose it, but I am struggling very badly with maternal OCD and have been put on new medication which is rapidly causing me to gain even more weight. It’s got to the point where I think what’s the point? Because on that I’m going to struggle to lose it.
I’m also scared, because I know that I will never be able to just ‘eat healthier, less and move more’. My brain doesn’t work like that, years of disordered eating has made that almost impossible. I am scared because I know the obsessions will come back and I will have all those feelings of guilt and shame and paranoia and self-hate. I remember back to the days I would cover my mirror with a blanket so I didn’t have to look at myself.
I hate how I am now, and I know I need to do something about it, but I don’t feel the reason I have got to where I am has been a conscious choice, it’s not black and white. It’s not like I sat down one day and said right, you know what, I’m going to be fat. It’s been a long road of horrendous experiences, disordered eating, bad mental health and years of diminished confidence. I hope people realise that those of us who are fat, don’t always just simply eat big takeaways and say ‘who cares?’.