My Wake-Up Call to Lose Weight

It was challenging. Exhausting. Frustrating. So I prayed. I asked God to help me lean on my faith when all I wanted was something to eat. I changed my eating habits. Less sugary food, no juice, more water. I cut out bread for a while and tried intermittent fasting. I paid more attention to my meals instead of eating whatever I could find, then pretending it hadn’t happened. There were still treats, but I was learning to be honest with myself about them. I started going to the gym about four times a month. Then twice a week. Eventually, two or three times a week. And gradually, the weight began to come off. My body didn’t look exactly as it had before pregnancy. But I started feeling attractive again. I wanted to get dressed properly, choose clothes I liked, and let myself be seen. I could see that my husband found me attractive again too. But the change I felt most was standing in front of the mirror and liking what I saw. It wasn’t easy. I won’t pretend it was. But I did it once. Then, after another pregnancy, I did it again. And after my third, I had to find that determination all over again. My second baby was born during Covid. I gained more weight than I had with my first pregnancy. Eventually, I lost it—and then I got pregnant again. By my third pregnancy, I was older, with perimenopause beginning to feel a little too close for comfort. I’d also reached the age where the words “geriatric pregnancy” could enter the conversation. Geriatric. Lovely. Just what a woman wants to hear. I knew I needed to take my health seriously, and I was finding that losing weight took more effort than it used to. I couldn’t keep expecting my body to behave as though I were still in my twenties. But I’d made myself a promise. I would keep trying. To be clear, I mean looking after myself again. Not having another baby. I want to keep managing my weight and eating well without waiting until I feel miserable to do something about it. I know now how easily I can slip into hiding, making excuses, and promising myself I’ll start tomorrow. I do it for my husband. For my children, who love seeing their mummy dressed up like a princess. But mostly, I do it for me. I want to feel comfortable in my clothes. I want to run around with my children, enjoy being close to my husband, and have the energy to join in with my own life. My wake-up call came from a conversation with him. Keeping that promise to myself is something I choose, again and again.