Taking a seat at the dining room table, my son’s eyes suddenly widened.
‘Mum, you’ve really outdone yourself,’ Joe, 25, smiled.
In front of him lay a full Christmas dinner with all the trimmings – a glistening turkey, roast carrots and parsnips, pigs in blankets, stuffing, warm Yorkshire puddings and steaming gravy.
With Christmas music playing in the background, I’d created a nice festive atmosphere for him, too.
Although he was eating his Christmas dinner alone, he piled his plate as high as he possibly could.
‘Cheers Mum,’ he smiled, lifting up his drink with a grin.
While most people enjoy a scrumptious meal like this on Christmas Day, for Joe, it was two weeks early – on 8 December 2019.
Myself, my husband Michael, 59, and our son Sam, 33, were holding out until Christmas Day, but as Joe was flying out to Istanbul, Turkey, the next day, he’d asked me to do him up an early roast.
A few days before, walking into the living room, he’d made a very sudden announcement.
‘I’m having a gastric sleeve fitted,’ he said. ‘This is the end of all my yo-yo dieting.’
Joe had always been a big lad.
Chubby as a child, he loved his food, and as he got older, his waistline expanded.
