My takeaway habit was ruining my life
Wolfing down my third slice of cheesy toast, I popped more bread into the toaster.
All while bobbing my three-month-old baby boy, Kristian, on my hip.
It was August 2017 and as a new mum, life was busy.
‘I can’t be going hungry,’ I told Kristian.
Not if I had to tend to his every need all day.
Five years earlier, after unhealthy habits in my teens, I’d been 18st 7lb, and a size 24.
But with diet and exercise – and sheer determination – I’d lost 7st and gone down six dress sizes.
Then I’d met my fiancé, James, and fallen pregnant.
I’d already lost the weight I’d put on carrying Kristian.
But the healthy diet I’d adopted to shed all those pounds had slipped now.
On maternity leave from my job as a carer, looking after myself began to fall down my priorities list.
I was lucky Kristian slept through the night, but he’d wake up every morning at 5am, raring to go.
And while James was at work, I had no time for the 24 gym, or to cook myself healthy meals.
Instead I reached for whatever was convenient.
Four slices of buttered toast with cheese for brekkie, or nothing at all.
Fuelled on countless cups of coffee, I was usually famished, irritable and zapped of energy by midday.
So I’d spend the afternoons topping up on biscuits, crisps, bars of chocolate – and more coffee – to see me through.
By evening, with Kristian in bed, James and I slumped on the sofa, exhausted. There was only one option. ‘What do you fancy for takeaway tonight?’ I’d ask.
The choices were endless…
Chinese, Indian, pizza, kebabs.
We’d order in two or three nights a week, sometimes four, or more.
When we did cook at home it’d be stodgy pasta dishes.
Before long, the bad habits were cemented.
All the junk food and sugar meant I felt worse but I was trapped in the cycle.
Fatigued, out of shape, with no energy or self-esteem.
And the weight piled on.
Then, after I went back to work in January 2018, it got harder as I worked 12-hour shifts.
When I started getting chest pains, I was terrified
By 2019, I was a size 20 and feeling miserable.
‘I’m almost back at my heaviest,’ I groaned to James one morning.
A family holiday with the in-laws to Tenerife looming was the incentive I needed to sort myself out.
‘Whatever I can do to help, tell me,’ James said.
While he’d eaten pretty much the same as me, at 6ft 4in he’d got away without any weight gain, lucky thing.
Over the next five months I made time for the gym, opted for healthier food choices, cut sugar and watched my calorie intake.
