After surviving three heart attacks and cancer Pippa Hannay, 39, knew something had to change
WORDS: FRANCESCA WOODSTOCK, JOE CUSACK. PHOTOS: FOCUS FEATURES
Squeezing a handful of tummy podge, I let out a sigh, wishing I’d been blessed with the same genes as the rest of my family.
At 17, I was 5ft 2in and a size 12, which wasn’t huge, but I felt it. My mum, Jane, was a willowy model, my dad, Howard, was an ex-footballer, and my little sister Charlotte, then 14, was tall and slim, while I was short and plump.
It was hard not to compare myself. I started skipping meals in an effort to cut calories, but I’d give in and head to McDonald’s to satisfy my cravings for a burger and fries.
It was a cycle I was still in when in 2012, aged 30, I married and the following year, I fell pregnant. I couldn’t wait to be a mummy, but my weight shot up. Maternity clothes were forgiving, but the scales didn’t lie and I weighed 16st 7lb. By nine months I was so big I needed crutches to walk.
When Olivia was born in July 2013, I loved her so much, but it was tough being a mum. I gave up my job in the corporate world, and I hated my size 18 body.
My relationship with Olivia’s dad took a nosedive and we split in early 2015. Olivia kept me going and my best friend, Vicky, then 35, was a rock – even though she was fighting her own agonising battle against leukaemia. Vicky always knew how to make me smile, even at my lowest, but in April 2015 Vicky tragically passed away and I was utterly heartbroken. My family was a huge support, but I was at rock bottom.
INTENSIVE GYM PLAN
Needing a distraction, I joined a gym, and I threw myself into an intense exercise plan, attending training sessions three times a week. ‘If I can be slim, I can be happy,’ I told myself. I jumped squats and burpees, and blood pumped through my system, raising my heart rate.
Two weeks later, in May 2015, on a night out with a friend, a sharp pain ran across my chest. ‘I need to sit down,’ I said, feeling sweaty and breathless. I was burning the candle at both ends, so I decided to call it a night and head home.
But a week later the same thing happened in a training session at the gym. Exhausted, I went home and cuddled up to Olivia on the sofa. The pressure in my chest subsided, but the next day it happened a third time. This time, as I carried a load of washing up to Olivia’s room, I dropped to the floor. Something was very wrong.
Grabbing my phone, I dialled 111. ‘You need an ambulance,’ the operator said. My mum picked up Olivia and I was rushed to Leighton Hospital in Crewe. ‘You’v
