real life
Rachael Sacerdoti, 42, had always been self-conscious of her extra weight. But then she found a simple way to lose it…
As a child, I never worried about my weight. But as I approached puberty, I started to notice I was getting bigger. I grew up with my parents and three brothers in Singapore. My parents worked in luxury fashion, and were very busy. They stocked the cupboards with easy to grab snacks – crisps, biscuits and my favourite chocolate, Rolos.
By 16, at 5ft 5in, I weighed 10st 5lbs and was bigger than most of the girls at school. I felt so self-conscious. In a bid to lose weight and with no clue how to, I turned to fad diets, restricting myself and hardly touching my dinner. At one point, I even turned to dangerous diet pills, which I kept a secret from my parents.
As I got older, I met my now-husband Daniel, 44. My weight had settled to around 10st 9lbs, but when I was 32, I found out I was pregnant. It was like being given a free pass to eat whatever I wanted – after all, who would see how much weight I’d put on when I had a baby bump? “I’m eating for two now,” I’d say. I leaned into the idea – increasing portion sizes and using the baby as an excuse for an extra snack.
Then during my pregnancy, I was diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum – causing me to experience intense morning sickness. “I need something salty,” I’d say to Daniel, holding a sick bowl on the sofa. Salty carbohydrates were the only thing that stopped the constant nausea. By the time my son David, now ten, was born, I’d gained 4st 7lbs. I had to have a C-section and the recovery was particularly tough.
A few years later, I gave birth to my daughter Rebecca and, after that, we welcomed our third, Gabriella. With each pregnancy, I put on more weight. After Gabriella, I was the biggest I’d ever been, weighing 13st 8lbs and a size 16. I loathed my body. I’d spend each summer hating the sight of my arms and cursing my thighs – shorts caused chaffing, which made my legs red and raw. I prayed for winter to come so I could cover my body in thick jumpers and coats. “I have to do something about this,” I’d say.
In desperation, I’d book myself in with a personal trainer, undergoing extreme training sessions five days a week. But the intense effort caused me to suffer burnout and, as quickly as I lost the weight, I’d pile it back on.
I was too exhausted to exercise regularly and my poor diet made me feel so lethargic, some days I would eat nothing all day and then binge-eat the evening away. I’d have sugar crashes and rely on more sugar to keep me going – it was a vicious cycle. “Let’s go to the park, Mummy,” my kids would ask. But I felt so tired
