As I opened the kitchen cupboard, I stared at a pack of milk chocolate digestives and felt my stomach grumble. ‘I can’t,’ I told myself over and over. Tears began to stream down my cheeks as I tried desperately to fight my cravings. I’d been here before, attempting to stop bingeing on junk food. But this time, in 2000, was different – I’d just been told that if I didn’t lose weight, I’d lose my sight. If I didn’t get rid of the bulge, I’d risk not seeing my son, Josh, then six, grow up. Yet, here I was, about to tuck into those digestive biscuits.
I hadn’t always been big.
When I was a teenager, I
