After years of misery I’m footloose – and bra-free
Clare Wordley, 48, Merseyside
Collapsing on to the sofa, I pulled my burger from the brown bag and took a bite.
After leaving work at a beauty salon, I’d swung by the McDonald’s Drive Thru and devoured a double cheeseburger on the drive home.
Now, after my Big Tasty, I tucked into a mountain of fudge, crisps and chocolate.
Eating numbed my feelings, you see.
It was 2018, and after my 16-year marriage ended in 2012 when I was 36, life had got on top of me.
My GP had prescribed antidepressants, but my anxiety had only got worse.
Food had become a source of comfort – until I finished stuffing myself and felt even more miserable.
Long gone was my fun, sociable self.
My four children, Connor, then 24, Jessica, 23, Zion, 15, and Rita, 14, knew I was sad.
Guilt crushed me when I thought about how my moods affected them.
Especially Zion and Rita, who lived at home.
Yet with each day that passed, it became harder to leave the house.
When at work as a beauty therapist, I plastered on a big fake smile.
‘I’m fine,’ I fibbed, if 38 anyone asked if I was OK.
But the pounds piled on. My size-12 clothes became a size 28.
I lived in T-shirts and trackie bottoms.
One day, I dragged myself to the supermarket.
‘Let the lady pass,’ a man told his little boy as I tried to squeeze to the checkout.
‘That’s not a lady,’ the kid said back.
I bit back tears but, while his words cut deep, I couldn’t deny how horrible and bulky I felt.
By 2019, I’d hit rock bottom. I even tried to end my life several times.
By now, everyone was beside themselves, especially my kids.
I hated what I was doing to them.
One morning at work I phoned a friend in distress.
‘You can come out of this,’ he urged.
Then later, as I drove home, the song Just Stand Up! was playing.
It was sung by a supergroup of female pop icons, including Beyoncé and Rihanna, in aid of Stand Up To Cancer.
‘You got it in you, find it within,’ they sang.
The inspiring lyrics struck a chord, and suddenly I knew I could do it.
Mentally I’d turned a corner, but I needed to lose weight
Back home, with my GP’s guidance, I gradually weaned myself off my meds.
I did little things that made me feel better – a hot bath or a face mask.
Then I got a Staffordshire bull terrier pup, Mabel.
Whenever I was about to cry, she leapt on to my lap, whimpering for attention.
‘You’ve got a sixth sense,’ I laughed.
My black cloud lifted. Walking Mabel, I started noticing colours again.
Bright blue skies, lush green grass… Mentally, I’
