Hello, I am a fat ass. It’s a Tuesday afternoon on a cold summer’s day in Scotland and I am lying on yet another hospital bed on yet another anonymous hospital ward. You see, I’m not just sick I am quickly rewriting the NHS statistics on obesity. It’s an achingly cliché phrase, but I am not living, I am dying. Change has to come and it has to stick. Why am I choosing to start this journey on a Tuesday? It’s simple really. Everyone starts on a Monday and I like to do things a little differently. It’s wickedly rebellious I know.
My dastardly plan is simple; I am human, I am weak, I am 31 years old and 142kg. These are not the statistics of a strong person. I am never going to be able to reverse years of poor life choices in one blog post. Implementing small changes will be key to avoid being overwhelmed at the task before me. I have gone down the route of total and instant lifestyle change many, many times before and yes I had some success, my energy levels increased, my sleep requirements decreased significantly, my skin was amazing and I stopped picking up niggling infections every five minutes. I did not, however, lose any weight. I didn’t drop inches. Nothing. Nada. Not a single sausage.
I joined Slimming World and had some limited success following their plan. I eventually became disillusioned with flat-lining results so tweaked my program. I treated the meetings as a weekly source of being held to account. A way to force myself to stick to my new plan. I am not going to post what this entailed as it was incredibly stupid and dangerous. I lost 32kg in just under 3 months. It wasn’t sustainable though and eventually the walls came crashing down around me. In the subsequent 6 months I put everything right back on. This is why they call it yo-yo dieting, I guess.
For the last 10 years I have been living with suicide. Everything which is wrong with me today is borne out of heartache, a manifestation of survivor’s guilt. The most beautiful light has been extinguished and it is really, really shit. For years after I chain smoked and drank myself into a nightly stupor locked away in solitary penance. Depression caused me to physically punch out most of my teeth. I haven’t smoked or drank in 5 years, but the damage was done. I now have type 2 diabetes and leukaemia. I cannot go to bed without being hooked up to a machine to aid my breathing. My body is trying to kill me when I’m awake and it is trying to kill me when I sleep. I live with chronic pain and seemingly irreversible mobility issues. I’ve been left with no mates. Finding love is as likely as finding Yeti. I can’t even tie my own shoelaces.
A decade of neglect/feeling sorry for myself has led to negativity central. Society hates a fat ass so whatever encouragement you receive generally comes with a whiff of patronising undertones. So this is on you. And, it is on me. Let us prove the doubters wrong and do this thing. Together.
My dastardly plan is simple; I am human, I am weak, I am 31 years old and 142kg. These are not the statistics of a strong person. I am never going to be able to reverse years of poor life choices in one blog post. Implementing small changes will be key to avoid being overwhelmed at the task before me. I have gone down the route of total and instant lifestyle change many, many times before and yes I had some success, my energy levels increased, my sleep requirements decreased significantly, my skin was amazing and I stopped picking up niggling infections every five minutes. I did not, however, lose any weight. I didn’t drop inches. Nothing. Nada. Not a single sausage.
I joined Slimming World and had some limited success following their plan. I eventually became disillusioned with flat-lining results so tweaked my program. I treated the meetings as a weekly source of being held to account. A way to force myself to stick to my new plan. I am not going to post what this entailed as it was incredibly stupid and dangerous. I lost 32kg in just under 3 months. It wasn’t sustainable though and eventually the walls came crashing down around me. In the subsequent 6 months I put everything right back on. This is why they call it yo-yo dieting, I guess.
For the last 10 years I have been living with suicide. Everything which is wrong with me today is borne out of heartache, a manifestation of survivor’s guilt. The most beautiful light has been extinguished and it is really, really shit. For years after I chain smoked and drank myself into a nightly stupor locked away in solitary penance. Depression caused me to physically punch out most of my teeth. I haven’t smoked or drank in 5 years, but the damage was done. I now have type 2 diabetes and leukaemia. I cannot go to bed without being hooked up to a machine to aid my breathing. My body is trying to kill me when I’m awake and it is trying to kill me when I sleep. I live with chronic pain and seemingly irreversible mobility issues. I’ve been left with no mates. Finding love is as likely as finding Yeti. I can’t even tie my own shoelaces.
A decade of neglect/feeling sorry for myself has led to negativity central. Society hates a fat ass so whatever encouragement you receive generally comes with a whiff of patronising undertones. So this is on you. And, it is on me. Let us prove the doubters wrong and do this thing. Together.