Upwards and Outwards... How I Got Fat

I wasn't sure how to start this, but I suppose I'll take my lead from another lovely lady who is going on the same journey as I am.

So here it is... how I became me. Be prepared, this is likely to be long and rambly... I'll also be posting photos in here I would have never shared with anyone. These are the kinds of photos you hide and never print... that just sit there, taunting you about how fat you are.


I've never been thin - in all of my 25 years. I was born an average weight though and was an average-sized toddler... but for some reason or another, I ended up getting bigger as the years grew on.

(Me, aged 3 or 4 - just a normal kid with ice-block stains on her lips...lol)

I wasn't a roly-poly kid. Nobody would have looked at me when I was 6 and said I was fat... I was probably the chubby side of average. I had an appetite though, and I remember sitting at dinner eating the same size servings as my father... (and still secretly being hungry for more). I was just hungry. All the time. The feeling remains today.

When I was young, as a RAAF kid, we travelled in the car a lot, moving from one posting to another. Given the price of airfares back then, long-haul road-trips were pretty much the only option. I really enjoyed these trips. Part of my enjoyment was the fact that we got to stay in places we otherwise wouldn't have ever seen... but another part I have never before admitted to, is that I LOVED stopping for the food. Food on the road meant truck-stops, or getting to order breakfast the night before at the motor-inn we stayed at. Stopping along the way at servos for chips and soft drink/juice because there wasn't much else around. Or... if we were very lucky... spotting the Golden Arches and knowing that we'd likely stop because my parents knew there might not be another chance for a while... and me, being a compulsive pee-er (I drink a lot, and thus pee a lot - I still do to this day), always complained to stop because I wanted to use the toilets. I guess it was a rest enjoyed by all (even Dad, who hates McDonalds).

Another thing I remember about these trips is the music. Before the days of car CD-players, we had casette tapes... which my parents usually had recorded on themselves, by copying their old vinyl records. From this, sprung my love of old music - Queen in particular.

I don't think my father ever meant to hurt me - nor do I think he would even know that I remember this these days - but Queen's "Fat Bottom Girls," was declared as "Stacey's song," by my father. I think when I was as young as 6... and so, sometime around then, I started to notice that I was perhaps a little larger than my peers, even though, at that point, I was far from fat.

A lot of my good memories contain food. It's pretty sad really... that a childhood can be easier to remember because of the food you ate.

I mean, I remember being a child staying with my grandparents when I was young. When we visited them, we got lots of treats that I remember fondly. Eating fresh honey right off the honeycomb, eating orange ice-blocks in Winter (that the my Nanny put into cups so they didn't leak on the floor), having fresh strawberry jam spooned onto vanilla ice-cream instead of topping and eating white Country Split bread that was the most heavenly bread known to man. We weren't allowed white bread at home, so it was very special at the time.

I also think about the time I caught Mum eating my chocolate Easter Eggs after I was supposed to be in bed. lol. My parents had convinced me to break up my Easter eggs and pop them in a container to store them better. I woke up to ask for something (water or maybe I was feeling sick - one of those many things kids wake up and whinge about), and saw my mother sitting there, watching some primetime soapy, and eating MY EGGS. lol. I was so furious with her (now I just think it's funny).

Or what about Christmas? I used to be very upset when my Christmas meal didn't contain the standard roast that I had become accustomed to. That, and pretzels that nobody ever ended up eating, those chocolate wafer stick things, and a little table decoration Mum had made that was covered in chocolate eclairs.

From reading all of this, you'd assume I lived on a diet of junk food... but that was far from the truth. The fact is, as a kid, I was forced to eat healthily most of the time. Of course celebrations allowed for junk, as did visiting and travelling long-distance... but our diet was mostly meat-and-three-veg for dinner, sandwich for lunch, cereal for breakfast (not sugary cereals either - no Coco-Pops or anything) and fruit for snacks. You knew Mum was feeling generous if you ever saw a small pack of chips in your lunch box!

I didn't even eat a lot of take-away as a kid. At McDonalds, all I'd eat was the chips. I eventually moved up to nuggets too... but I just didn't like Maccas in general, and my Dad hated it, so we rarely went. My brother and I usually shared a Happy Meal - he'd have the burger, I'd have the chips and we'd share the drink or Mum would just order and extra drink. I didn't eat pizza. I thought it was horrible stuff. We didn't have any fancy take-aways either for our family - and as we weren't wealthy, we simply couldn't afford to eat out often. It was a rarity. Mum was a "take a packed lunch," type instead.

So how did I get fat?

Well, as I've said, I was never small... but I did exercise and play sports as a younger child, and I ate reasonably well, even if I ate more than a child my age probably needed.

I went through puberty early... and while all my friends were still in their little-girl bodies, I was developed breasts and growing pubic hair... at 8. Growing an adult body at such a young age meant that I began to look fatter than my peers - I mean, the body of a woman usually differs from that of a little girl, and I was too little to know that there was nothing physically wrong with my body, despite it being different from my peers. All I felt, was fat.

Still, I wasn't overly concerned... I mean, I thought about it, but it didn't occupy the majority of my thoughts like it does these days.

Okay, so... fast forward to my teenage years. All of a sudden, I had a bit more freedom. I mean, even just basic things, like the school canteen/tuckshop was different. Instead of having your mother write your lunch order on a paper bag and sending it to school with the correct amount in coins... well, I was given money to make my own choices. I had plenty to choose from too - plenty of fatty, greasy, unhealthy junk! I was 13 though, what did I care about these things? I was aware I was bigger than average, and it did upset me a lot more than previous years... but I seemed to lack the ability to think further ahead than "RIGHT NOW," so I just ate... whatever I damn well wanted really.

During these years I wanted to do some things - dancing, mainly. I wanted to do ballroom. Thing is, we didn't have the money then (Mum and Dad had split by this stage) and I was embarrassed by my body and didn't feel like I was "thin enough," to participate in that kind of activity. The girls who did dance were all skinny - I didn't fit that, so I wasn't going to make myself the laughing stock by joining in (despite the fact that it would have helped my fitness level and perhaps lowered my weight...).

We visited my grandfather one year... interstate. I remember something he said to me that has stuck in my mind for years, and haunted me since.
To my brother: "Wow, you've shot up like a weed!"
To me: "You haven't grown THIS way (as in, vertically), but you've grown a lot THIS way (horizontally)."

Said to a 14-year-old girl. I really don't think that was the wisest thing he could have said... and it made me feel like shit.

So let's fast forward again... to driving-age. I didn't drive. I didn't bother learning... but my friends did. It meant even more freedom... and now, my mother had given me access to more money than I previously had so... I wasted it. On take-away. By now I loved McDonalds, and spent a lot of money there. Where it had been a rarity in my home previously, I was now having a LOT of it. LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS. Some nights, we'd go to McDonalds THREE TIMES and order THREE FULL MEALS in that time. Yes, gross. I know. It definitely contributed to my size, and to the size of my partner in crime, who was 150kg at his heaviest.

All through my teenage years, I was aware that I was fat. Kids at school didn't want me to forget it. While I was not the fattest there was, I was fat enough to recieve my fair share of taunts and teasing. I remember some popular boys sending me an eMail (through the school system, where you could eMail anyone who was at that school), pretending to be from a boy who nobody liked (he was just a jerk, as well as annoying) saying how much he loved me... blah blah blah. These popular boys then decided to tease me, one saying, "At least now you can pretend to be normal - one person loves you even though you're fat."

I wasn't UNpopular at this time. I never was. I was never in the social-outcast groups in our school... but I was far away from popular as well.

My boobs probably saved me there - I had DD cups in my later high school years, and these did not escape the attention of numerous males. They might not have been interested in me, but they wanted to see my tits so would occasionally be nice in the hopes I'd show them off.

Here's the pathetic part - I often did. I KNEW that the only reason they were even talking to me was because they wanted a flash, but they were talking to me regardless... and I was willing to take whatever male attention I could. I got felt up on a set of stairs after school one afternoon (after school had finished, before my mother had arrived to pick me up)... he was popular and had wanted to see my boobs. I let him look down my top... but he wanted me to lift up my top for a closer look. He wanted to see WITHOUT the bra, and pulled it down and sucked on my nipple. At school. God, I was such a slut. Well, not really. I was just a sad teenage girl who thought this is what she had to do in order to get any sort of attention... and really, I guess it WAS what I had to do to get noticed at all. When this guy started touching another part of my anatomy, I quickly hurried off... I wasn't willing to let him touch/see that part of me, no matter how popular he was.

Of course, this stuff spreads easily, and this wasn't my first "flashing," incident... so not only was I now called, "fat," but also "a slut."

Obviously, for someone who already has self-esteem and body-image issues, this was just another kick in the guts and it was time for me to gain more weight.

Let's go to my first serious boyfriend. The tosser I lost my virginity to. I was fat, yet he paid attention to me and was willing to call himself my boyfriend... and while I was a smart girl intellectually, I was willing to lower every single one of my standards if it meant I could tell people I had a boyfriend. Even if he was a douche.

Well... I met him online. Being a fatty, what other way did I have to meet people? I didn't - so I lured them in with my personality first, and then went from there, hoping they liked me enough to see past the fact that I was fat. That's one thing I've learnt too - high school fat is different from real-world fat. Once you hit about 20, you can get away with being fatter than you could have 3 years earlier...

Anyway, this guy. WHAT A DICK. He was a bogan if ever I saw one. His mother was a foul-mouthed slapper who spent a lot of time with her 24-year-old boyfriend (she was about 39) and was too busy smoking and drinking to give two shits about her kids... and she was more than happy to let me stay with her when I ran away interstate to see him.

Yes, so desperate was I (a girl who was normally so well-behaved) to say I had a boyfriend, that I RAN AWAY INTERSTATE, after stealing money from my mother (well... kind of... I had access to this money but was only supposed to use it with permission) and caught a bus from Brisbane to Sydney.

I was so tired after my long bus-ride that all I wanted to do was sleep... so he let me, preferring to watch a dvd of Star Wars rather than spend any time with me. When the movie was over, I woke up to him prodding me and asking, "Are you ready now?" For sex, this was. And so... I lost my virginity. Because everyone had called me fat (and seriously, I was probably about 75kg-80kg, which was overweight for a girl of only 161cm, but not even nearly as fat as I could have been, and not nearly as huge as I thought I was!), I was willing to have that moment be a pretty dodgy memory... because hey, at least I wouldn't die a fat virgin!

He was critical of my size too - commenting on my "fat cheeks." On my face. Why he felt the need to say that I don't know. I got, "You would be pretty... if it weren't for your fat cheeks." Um... thanks boyfriend. How kind of you...???

Let's head to Schoolies (which is where I dumped this douch, over the phone). I got felt up there, but I'm pretty sure everyone did (most anyway)... so that's not really a stand-out. I do remember being rejected though. At a foam party, I had slipped and was sitting down, covered in foam. My head was showing (partly covered in foam), when a guy came over, started talking to me, and gave me a hand to help me up. When I stood, and wiped the foam off my body, he obviously no longer liked what he saw and wandered off. Not a word. He was just an example of what I'd put up with.

(My 18th Birthday)

Sometime later, I met my daughter's father. Relationship went to shit, I fell pregnant young and early into the relationship... blah blah... I got fatter. I was about 93kg when I fell pregnant, 100kg by the time I was 42 weeks into the pregnancy (I went overdue...lol), but a week after I had my daughter, I weighed 85kg... so less than where I started. I was happy.

Not for long. My daughter's father turned out to be... well, a bit hopeless. He didn't care to help much... but more than that, I had a caesarean to have her, and that was something I had NEVER EVER EVER wanted. Never ever in my life. In fact, surgery was something I had wanted to avoid for my entire life... unless of course it was an emergency procedure.

Well, whenever I tried to mention how disheartened and disappointed I was at having the caesarean, how I felt I was pressured into it and that it wasn't necessary... EVERY SINGLE PERSON thought I was nuts... and you know, I expected people to not "get it," but when I spoke to her father, who I thought loved me and cared about me, he would complain and eventually it got to the, "ARE YOU STILL GOING ABOUT THIS? JEEZ!" point... and so I shut up. I turned to food.

(Me enjoying Christmas when my daughter was 17 months)

Food, who had brought me so many good feelings in the past. The times I'd travelled long-haul with the family, the times I'd spent with my grandparents, the Christmas days I'd enjoyed, the driving around in cars with my friends (which was fun, even if we pigged out disgustingly)... etc etc. I had lost my youth, becoming a mother so young (at 19), and my partner at the time just didn't seem to care about anything I had to say... so yes, I turned to food, who would comfort me, who would bring me back to those happy memories, who would not judge me and tell me off, but who would make me feel nice when I was feeling down.

Until food made me feel like shit almost the moment after I shovelled the first mouthful in. Then I kept shovelling in more - trying harder to get rid of the bad feelings... and so on and so on.

I got to my highest weight in that relationship - 110kg. At 161cm, that's a fair bit. I looked pretty horrible, and I dressed pretty lazily (unless I went out somewhere nice, in which case I'd try to scrub up nicely)... but all the while, my daughter's father kept telling me I looked fine. If I wore a new dress, or did my hair differently, or SOMETHING he'd comment, "Wow, you look pretty." I always figured that, even though I was fatter then, he loved me all the same.

(When my daughter was close to 2)

Of course, the relationship wasn't good so I don't know why I thought he loved me... I guess I just thought life was difficult so we were having issues... but that they'd be resolved when he finished his apprenticeship, that they'd be easier once our daughter was at school, once I could get a job/study/etc... blah blah blah. I looked to the future.

During all this time I'd tried a few different weightloss methods. I tried Tony Ferguson shakes... but I failed, perhaps partially because everyone was all, "Why are you doing that?" and trying to make me give up prematurely. Including my partner at the time. I did Lite n Easy, but it's expensive, and as soon as you stop it... well... hello weight gain! I learnt about calorie counting though, and tried that and did quite well... well, did well at counting calories and exercising, but the weight didn't move. I really have no idea why... I had the knowledge, I had the motivation, I had the committment... yet I remained fat.

Well, let's get to the break-up. Biggest break-up of my life, considering I was now an adult and had a child to this guy. One of his parting comments to me...

"You never know, if you lose a lot of weight and get rid of that hair (on my vagina he meant... though he never seemed to care how it was styled before, so I just didn't bother doing much with it anymore), you MIGHT find someone..."

I might? If I lose a ton of weight? Um... yeah, thanks. That really struck me - I had believed my weight wasn't much of an issue for him... but obviously, it was. As was my pubic hair... lol.

Pretty much straight away, I decided to not let him win. To not be some obese, sad, lonely pig... but to lose weight and be sexy. Now... since TF hadn't worked, since LnE worked short-term but was too costly for me, since calorie counting and exercise did nothing for my figure... what would I do? I know - HOW ABOUT STARVE?!

The stress of the break-up probably helped here... because even if I decided to just give up eating altogether right now, I couldn't do it... but back then, I managed. I was 22, and I stopped eating. I refused to eat anything with sugar or any other carbs... so when I did eat, I had a tiny amount of cheese or some meat. Over about 2-3 months, this saw me losing 27kg.

I then met my current partner - who got to me when I was 87kg. That was how big I was when we first slept together. He doesn't know that though - he thinks I was 77kg. I have never been able to tell him my weight - I am so ashamed and embarrassed,  that I took 10kg off. He has no idea what I currently weigh...

There's so much more I could add... but this is REALLY LONG...

So basically, right now, I am 102kg. That gives me a BMI of 39.4. I'm 25, the mother of a little girl who turns 6 in July, and I am so freaking SICK of thinking about my weight... of trying and trying... only to fail.

(Me Jan this year - daughter's first day of school)

Since the previous attempts, I've of course attempted again and again. That's what we fatties do, right? Exhaust all our options and cry because they never work.

I've done Atkins.
I've done Calorie Counting.
I've done Calorie King (which is calorie counting, but with a program to help you do it).
I've tried Vegetarianism (partly for ethical reasons, but admittedly I also hoped it'd help by cutting out animal fat).
I've done the CSIRO Total Wellbeing Diet.
I've been on Duromine.
I've tried simply eating less and eating lower-fat/calorie meals.
I've tried focussing on when I'm hungry and only eating when I am truly hungry, stopping when I'm satisfied rather than full.
I've tried FREAKING EVERYTHING I can try without spending billions of dollars only to fail yet again.
I've done Wii Active.
I've purchased an exercise bike and used it regularly.
I've worked out to exercise videos.
I've spent ages walking and walking and walking...

NOTHING DAMMIT! NOTHING WORKS!

And so... it's time for me to try something else. Something which is pretty much going to be it for me.

A GASTRIC SLEEVE.

Yep. Surgery. I need to do it - I need to lose this goddamn weight. I am SO TIRED of being fat. I am so tired of trying to do everything right... and having nothing work. I am so TIRED of everything... but more than anything, I'm tired of never being full/satisfied. I'm tired of living in a state of constant hunger. I'm tired of failing at diets because I'm FREAKING STARVING.

So, doctor, cut it off. Cut part of my stomach off, be gone with it. I don't want it.

I want to be smaller. I want to be healthier. I want to be able to use the sleeve to help me eat healthily and exercise... something that I cannot do on my own.

Why at only 25? What at only 102kg? Well... because why not? Why wait until I've got less life left in me? Why wait until I'm 50kg heavier? Why wait until I'm suffering from a million other obesity-related illnesses? Why not just do it NOW instead?

So there you have it - I plan to have surgery to help me lose weight. I am under no illusions - I am not a moron. I know there will be plenty of hard work ahead of me... but the sleeve will assist me to get there. Permanently.

Sometime after August 30, I will be able to have my surgery... after mid-May I should be funded, at which point I'll book my appointment.

I cannot wait to get healthy, and to be done with this constant yo-yo dieting.