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I’ll never be called the Michelin man
again!
When Debbie, 49, was fat she
sat down and made a list of everything she’d do once she was thin …a list she
can’t quite believe she’s achieved
Strolling along the white sandy beach in
the Dominican republic last August I
turned to Terry Black and beamed with absolute joy. This is what I’d dreamt of
being able to do for so long. I wasn’t
some fat blob, waddling along in her shorts and vest, thighs chafing so much they
bled, like I’d been on my holidays before. Instead I was in a bright pink
flowery bikini and I felt like I belonged.
I mentally ticked off yet another item on
my tick list. I’d drawn it up in the depths of despair, wei
ghing very nearly 25st.
There were eight items on it and it was simply titled ‘things I’ll do when I’m
thin’. I never really imagined I’d be able to do them all, back then, two
months after my husband had died, walking along a Caribbean beach seemed about
as likely as me being able to climb Everest, but I had to aim for something.
The
others were simpler:
- Climb a set of stairs without breaking out
in a cold sweat at the thought
- Go into any, and I mean any clothes shop
and buy something off the peg while asking the assistant if she had it in a
size 10
- Receive male attention because they liked
what they saw instead of looking at me to take the mick
- Learn to drive
- Go to a RAF reunion and nobody recognising
me
- Be admired for caring for people and being
recognised for the person I am and always was but was hidden behind my fat mask
- Fit into a seat on an aeroplane without
asking for seatbelt extensions
I’ve come a long way since I’d sat there on
the settee at home and written that list – now I’m 9st 12, perfect for my 5ft
5in height.
Not many people realised that I wasn’t
happy at 25 stone – I put a brave face
on my despair –laughing along when people said: “here comes the Michelin man
with her spare tyres’. In fact I’d often be the first one to make the quips and
told everyone I was happy as I was. But I’d sob myself to sleep at night.
I wasn’t always fat – when I was younger I
was very sporty, the captain of the netball and hockey teams. But after an
accident on my knee while doing long jump when I was 17 it was more difficult
to exercise, which was my downfall.
I met my husband Bill on a blind date on
November 15 1980, when I was 17, we were both in the air force then – he was an
engineer and I was in the communications department. I fell for him at first
sight and we started dating. He loved me and I soon fell into being ‘fat and
happy’. My weight gain was gradual to start with. On my wedding day on 8 May
1982, I was a size 18,and weighed 13 st but I still felt beautiful and I was
radiantly happy. When I gave birth to my daughter Aimie in 1984 I was 15st,
which climbed to 17st when I had Corey in 1986 and 18 st when I had Connor in
1991. It wasn’t that I ate big portions, more that I never really stopped
eating. I carried a chocolate bar in my handbag all the time – galaxy was my
favourite. In the morning I’d have toast, then mid morning I’d have a chocolate
bar and some biscuits. Lunch was a ham sandwich and then in the evening I’d
have fish and chips, followed by crisps and more chocolate.
I tried diets galore, I even lost 5st on
weightwatchers once, but it took me a year, I’d be going to the gym six days a
week, I had a personal trainer twice a week and cut out anything sugary. But
after a year it all tailed off, it just seemed impossible.
Bill never commented on my ever increasing bulk – he never acted as if was
ashamed, he’d take me out proudly. WE had a very happy marriage, but for our
sex life, which dwindled to non existent for the last 12 years of our life
together – even at the beginning it was always with the lights off. I was shy
about my bulk.
I’m not sure how long I would have carried
on like that but in December 2004, seven years ago Bill got devastating news –
he had lung cancer and it was terminal. He was given 18 months, but thankfully
he survived for five years.
It was the November before he died that I
visited my doctor and begged him for a gastric bypass – I was haunted by my
sister Gail’s words – she’s often tell me ‘you’re eating yourself to death.” “I’m
killing myself from eating,” I sobbed to my doctor. “You’ve got to help me, I
can’t let my children lose both of their parents so early on, but I can’t stop
eating.”
Thankfully he understood and put me on the
NHS waiting list. My operation came through at the beginning of March, but by
then Bill was terribly ill and I cancelled it. He died on 23 March 2009 and I
was simply devastated, I couldn’t imagine life without him in it.
At the beginning of April I called the
hospital asking for a new appointment and I had the surgery by the end of the
month. My three children needed a parent and I needed to do something as much
as anything to take my mind off the grief.
I’ve never regretted it for a second. I had
my share of difficulties, at first I threw up virtually everything I ate, they
needed to do another minor operation to sort that out. In May 2009 I sat down
to write my tick list – to keep me going when I felt it was al
l too difficult.
Sitting there I got out my A4 pad and
scrawled down all my dreams. I carefully folded up the paper and put it in a
box in my cupboard along with a pair of size 28 trousers that I was bursting
out of. As I ticked off the items it would remind me how far I’d come.
My first tick was the stairs and that was
after eight months – I felt elated , I was surprised that I wasn’t out of
breath . My weight fell off quickly, to start with I lost a sto
ne a month.
Nine months after Bill died my sister Gail,
56, told me I needed to get out more and that she was going to set me up with a
profile on an online dating site. “Don’t be daft,” I told her. “I’m not ready
for anything like that – I probably won’t ever be.” But she insisted and in the
end I gave in – it was lonely sitting in on my own all the time. I’d just go to
work at the bakery department in Morrisons and then come home and sit there, a
lot of the time I’d talk to a photograph of Bill, sometimes I’d get angry with
him for leaving me. I told her all I
wanted was someone who’d go out for the odd drink with me, just in a social
way. The day after she posted my profile she rang me up “Come over, you’ve had
loads of hits and there’s someone I think would be perfect”. As I peered at the message on her computer
screen I thought how nice he sounded. But he lived in Scotland, 300 miles away
from me in Doncaster. “He’ll hardly drive all that way for a couple of drinks in the pub,” I scoffed.
But I decided I’d send him a friendly message and see what happened. He replied
a couple of days later and from then the texts flew between us. Six weeks later
I went to visit him up in Scotland, staying in a B and B. We got on like a
house on fire, he was gentle and chatty and most importantly kind. By then I
was still about 18stone but I’d started to feel better about myself.
The next time I visited him, I stayed with
him. I was terrified about sleeping with him, I didn’t like my body, and kept
the sheet across my stomach, hiding the flab and loose skin. But he’s always
made me feel beautiful.
The ticks have kept on coming, Terry
certainly admires me for who I am and I’ve stopped making jokes at my own
expense – instead I tell people about how big I used to be and hope to inspire
them to lose weight too.
In February 2010 I’d used some of Bill’s
pay out from the RAF to have a £6800 tummy tuck to get rid of all the loose
skin that was left from my fat days. Terry was lovely – “I hope you’re not
doing that for me” he said. And I wasn’t – it was for me, I wanted to be free
of anything that would make me ashamed. I wanted to be truly proud o
f my body.
Going to my squadron dinner with my son
Corey PICTURED in 2010 was another turning point. A friend of Bill’s called
Boxy was there. He walked straight past me and I turned round and said ‘Hi Boxy,
aren’t you going to say hello to me.” He took one look at me and b
urst into tears. He hadn’t
recognised me. I think he cried for the right reason!
When I went back this November someone even
asked me if I was anorexic, I picked up a cake and ate it to prove I wasn’t!
In January 2011 I started driving lessons –
and amazingly I passed just three months later in March 2011. I’d always thought
I was too fat before – after all how would I steer with my stomach squashed
against the steering wheel. But I can now and proudly drive to see Terry every
six weeks or so.
Then in November I fulfilled my last tick –
I went into a shop in Doncaster that I’d never have dreamt of going to before –
I’d have been far too intimidated, even if they had stocked anything about a
size 14. I was so pleased when I held up the cerise dress with a bow and said
‘Have you got this in a 10’. The assistant looked surprised – it was a 10 and I
pretended I hadn’t realised. But I was determined to have that tick!
I feel so much better now. I’m still
conscious though of some loose skin on my thighs – I can’t afford to have any
more work done, but I’
ve entered a competition to try to win surgery *.
A few people were a bit worried and felt
that I’ve moved on too quickly. But I spent five years grieving for Bill, from
when he was diagnosed. I always hoped he would beat cancer, and he fought it so
bravely, but I knew really and so did he.
I am happy now – I’m not only still here
for my children, but I’m fit and healthy enough to run after my one year old
grandson. And I don’t want to get any thinner, though I never imagined I’d be
able to say that! And this year I’m going on holiday to Greece with Terry and
my sister Gail and her hubby Roy and there certainly isn’t any danger that I’ll
be needing a seatbelt extension! *www.lindabriggs.co.uk
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