I Am A Fat Woman

By Catherine Whiteman

I am a fat woman. Sometimes I have been a slim woman. The scales are things that have always lived in houses with me. Lurking underneath the edge of cupboards or tucked into the corners of rooms. They are evil bringers of bad tidings. I am scared of them. Why am I a fat woman? Because I love food. Real food, wholefoods: bread made from 100% wholemeal flour the whole grain, fruit and vegetables that have seen the sun and smell of unpolluted earth, desserts that are made of rich cream, care and love.

I am not moderate. That is the other reason I am a fat woman. A day out always involves stopping to eat at a lovely restaurant or café. A drive means stopping for a scone and coffee. Like the old saying goes, I believe a drink is too wet without a biscuit.

So how is hope involved in my story? I have been on a diet for five weeks and I weigh myself on Monday mornings. Hope lives with me now all week when I don’t eat that extra piece of tasty cheese or slice of my husband’s homemade bread with butter. Hope is enabling me to imagine waistbands that are not too tight and coats that I can button up easily. The scales sing to me as I approach them on Mondays, dressed in the lightest of my nighties. Will this be the Monday when the scales say:

‘Jump off, Catherine you are too skinny to be standing weighing yourself. Pop me back into the cupboard under the stairs. Go out and enjoy the sun in that flimsy, little sundress.’

I hope!

If you've been affected by this piece, please see our support page(this link will open in a new window) for help and advice.