I am so cross with myself.
Back at the start of the year, I was the heaviest I’d ever been. At 9st 13lb and five foot tall, my BMI of 27 put me officially in the Overweight category. I knew exactly how I got there; a combination of post-pregnancy sag, reintroducing dairy after six months off it in an attempt to help The Baby’s reflux, reducing to three breastfeeds a day having been doing anywhere up to 12 in a 24-hour period, and, most significantly, too much food and wine.
I hated the way I looked. Until I had children, I’d never had to worry about my weight. As a teenager and young adult, I was tiny. I could eat anything I wanted without changing shape or size. When I got married, 10 years ago, I was under 8st. People used to warn me that my metabolism would change and my weight would catch up on me one day, but I never gave it too much thought. Continue reading