I am 51 years old and a mother of four.
I had a very “traditional” and stable upbringing with my mom, dad, and younger brother. Mum stopped working when I was born, and she cooked homemade meals and baked cakes. We were active as a family through walking and cycling. Life was simple and good. My dad worshipped my Mum, who always made an effort with her appearance. I was never interested in material things or how I looked. I first became aware of being overweight around the age of 15. I do remember Dad calling me ‘Nelly the elephant. Dad approached being overweight by emphasising the importance of self-control. As a family, we were not allowed to argue and never discussed our feelings or emotions.
I left home at 19 and started my first job. I wasn’t allowed to go to university—Dad wouldn’t fill in the forms, and back then you needed permission from your parents unless you had lived away from home for at least 2 or 3 years. I got married at 23 and had my first child at 24. I left my job, went to university, and graduated at 28. During this time, I got divorced and became a single parent when my son was two. I have spent my life juggling a career and being a Mum. I don’t believe it is possible to do both well, but I have done the best I can. It has always been vitally important to me to be financially independent and work as hard as I can as a model for my children—that anything is possible to achieve if you work hard and take opportunities. I have always felt that I needed to prove myself.
In 2013 my oldest child left home when he was 17 to live with his dad, and he became addicted to drugs. He came back home a year later, but I asked him to leave when he was 20 because I could not cope any longer and for the sake of myself and my other children. I made my son homeless, and I have to live with that every day. He is getting his life back together now nearly 10 years later, but it has been a very painful journey for him and us all.
In March 2022, my dad died at home with my mother, my brother, and me after six months of gruelling treatment. I’m learning to live without my dad, who was, and probably still is, the biggest influence on me. Throughout my life, I have lived with obesity and a daily struggle with my eating. I dieted to lose weight at age 24. I started dieting again at the age of 29. Then again, aged 36. Then again, aged 45. Currently, at the age of 51, I am dieting. Each time I lose around 4 stone (25 kg) and then regain it all, and each time I vow never to go through it again.
When I am struggling to cope with life, I have an urge to eat, which is like a compulsion that I can’t control. I do know that this weight cycling must stop, as my physical and mental health are suffering. A big family or work social event triggers me to action and stops me from bingeing because I am embarrassed by my size, particularly in my professional life. I don’t have a healthy relationship with food or my body. When my life feels out of control, my relationship with food is worse. Yet perversely I eat to try and stay in control. I guess that eating is an outlet for me.
In my professional life, I have been a researcher of obesity for 24 years. I used to feel like a hypocrite—how can I work in this area and suffer so much privately as a person living with obesity? Now, I am glad that my work will ultimately help people like me. I have never spoken publicly about personally living with obesity but now is the time. If we don’t speak out, then nothing will change.