Research has shown that if you are obese as a child, you are more likely to be obese as an adult.
I was an overweight child. From about the age of 5 or 6 , I remember being bigger than the other children at school and knowing that I was different. There were maybe only one or two children out of a school roll of 300 that were overweight or obese back in my day - I was special, but not in a good way. I had to be careful to fly under the radar to avoid being ridiculed or singled out.
I have noticed these days that there are more overweight and obese children around, a lot more. I don't need statistics to tell me this, I only needed to look around me. The FOE website discusses the 'obesity epidemic' and the University of Otago discusses environmental obesity, sighting a range of statistics on this issue. Here's the website:
http://www.otago.ac.nz/profiles/environmentalobesity.html
If I were at school nowadays, I would not be quite so unique. I'm not sure if I am more saddened or just plain horrified by this.
So how did I become overweight at age such an early age? I must admit I have always loved my food. I guess some people have more of an affinity with food. I don't know if it is part of our genetic makeup, environmental factors or a bit of both, but food has been my constant companion, a comfort, an experience, a treat and a compulsion. My thoughts are never far from my next meal and it's been that way as long a I can remember.
I'm my youth, food was always accessible and I was encouraged to eat. I can't ever remember being told to stop or slow down - I probably was, but I can image I would have been pretty persistent. I would have done anything necessary to get want I fancied. I would become very agitated if I got hungry, I liked the feeling of fullness - I still do.
The food I ate was pretty typical of the time, regular meals, meat and three vege (boiled to oblivian), meat loaf, mac n cheese. Looking back, the portions were probably excessive for my age and having seconds was not discouraged. Between meals I snacked on biscuits, crackers, bread, cheese and sweets whenever they were available and this was most of the time. I helped myself more often than not and that included packets of jelly crystals and sachets of sugary juice concentrate.
Celebrations, birthdays and Christmas were based around excess, more food than was possible to consume was laid out and the era of the all you can eat smorgasbord became all the rage. I regularly ate until I felt sick on these occasions and then would wait a while before stuffing some more food in. It was our culture, our tradition - we all did it.
I wasn't the most active of children and the heavier I got the less involved I became in sport and physical exercise. I took swim lessons, but my reward would be chocolate and junk food afterwards. I played netball and softball for a while but I was slow and uncoordinated. I didn't contribute much to games. I spent a lot of time at home, on my own. I had a few friends, but I found it awkward to socialise and I enjoyed watching tv and videos where I didn't have to risk the possibility of being teased or ignored.
All of these things added up to a heavy child. By the age of 8-9 I was obese. I couldn't tell you what I weighed back then, but over the next 3 years the problem didn't get better. At age 11, I attended my first weight watchers meeting with my Mum. My weigh ins were somewhere around the 60 kg mark at 150 cms. It was the first time that I was exposed to the concept of balanced nutrition and portion control. I went for a few months attending weekly meetings with around 20 other women, listening to their stories and goals their successes and failures. But my progress was slow - a few kilos came off, but I struggled to make progress and I had as many failures as successes. I felt disappointed and a failure. My parents were equally disappointed. They tried to motivate me to lose weight with money, but it wasn't the movitation that I needed. I think I was hoping for something less tangible.

I started puberty at 11, nearly 12 and the realisation dawned on me, that boys are not at all interested in the 'fat girl'. One boy specifically pointed out that I would have been a really pretty girl, had I not been quite so fat. He didn't even put it to me in an awful way. It was a private conversation and he said it with such sincerety that although taken aback, I, after much thought could only agree with his comments.
Life as a pre-teen was only becoming more awkward, social outtings like discos and dances, roller skating and school camps were torture. Being ignored, overlooked and teased were unpleasant but thankfully I never really suffered terrible bullying. However, my weight was always ammunition should I run into conflict and it shattered my confidence. I followed the safe path and layed low to avoid drawing the attention of bullies.
Around this time my family gave me a nick name 'fatty'. I'm certain they would call it a term of endearment, but it was not something I found endearing. It was used to make fun of me or make me feel bad about eating. I'm sure they used it to try to motivate me to lose weight, but it did the reverse and I comfort ate to numb my shame and sadness.
My favourite after school snacks were brown sugar and butter melted in the microwave or hot chocolate sause made from milo and a dash of milk and microwaved into a thick, sticky sweet sause. I ate peanut butter in heaped spoonfuls from the jar and sometimes binged for hours on whatever I could find until my parents came home and then I sat down and ate dinner to finish off.
At 13, tipping the scales at 67 kg - a size 16 in women's clothing, I started high school and again I was only one of a handful in the school of 1200 odd pupils who were obese. I felt like an alien - actually it was more like I was invisible, at least to the opposite sex. After a few months, the motivation of getting the attention of high school boys and of proving the ultimate point to my parents, led me to make the decision - it was time to 'go on a diet'.
I had never been so determined. One school holiday break I armed myself with a set of bathroom scales and a calorie counter book and I went to war with my weight. I restricted my calories at first to 1500 calories a day and I began to lose weight. I kept this up and after only a few weeks the weight was dropping off. I had lost around 6-7 kgs and went down to a size 14. I felt great and my friends began noticing it. The comments about how great I looked felt so sweet - victory was mine.
Here's my school photo at the start of high school (left) and one of following year (there's a big difference even for a head shot)
But I wasn't finished yet. I found that if I dropped my calorie count down to 1000 calories and upped my physical activity, I could lose weight even quicker. It wasn't so hard to deprive myself and I loved seeing the needle on my bathroom scales move down. I dropped to 55 kgs within only a few months and went down another dress size. Mum bought me new clothes and I loved the way I looked. I wasn't the only one either, I started attracting the attention of boys that I had so desperately been seeking.
Life was sweet, my parents were proud of me and praised me for my weight loss. I seemed easier to love with less weight.
Here's me at 55 kgs
But, I wasn't finished yet. I joined the local gym with a group of friends and became a gym bunny. I would go most days after school and on weekends for sometimes hours at a time. I did weights, circuit, aerobics, swimming and I still cut calories only now I began to massage my numbers a wee bit. I would over estimate the calories of what I was eating. I had dropped the calorie intake to around 800 per day, but my portions were so small, I wasn't probably anywhere near my calculations. I dropped to 51 kgs rapidly, I was now down to a size 8-10 and loving it!
At this point my parents began to get concerned about my weight loss. They felt I had lost enough and that I was doing too much exercise. They wanted me to increase my food intake and told me that if I dropped below 50kgs that I would no longer be allowed to attend the gym or do any exercise until my weight stabilised.
I didn't stop. As I turned 14, my weight fell below 50 kgs and I was made to stop going to the gym. Even still, I felt such a sense of power, I was in control of my body. If I wanted to lose weight, I couldn't be stopped and even without the gym I continued on my campaign, even more determined to prove my point. I exercised in bed at night, I walked to school instead of taking the bus and snuck in as much physical activity as I could whenever my parents weren't looking. I hid food off my plate, spat out food in secret and refused offerings as much as I could get away with. I dropped to 47 kgs, a slender size 8.
But I wasn't finished. I stopped menstruating and I began to feel weak and unwell. On one occasion I completely fainted. I had horrible and nauseating hunger pangs, but I ignored them. Then I dropped to 45 kgs - now I wore girls size 10 clothing. I had no breasts or hips to fill out women's sizes. Odd that I always seemed to have the next size of clothing available as I lost more and more weight. But my mother obligingly bought them for me and I delighted in fitting ever smaller sizing.
My eyes began to look sunken and my hip bones petruded like the wings of a bird. I am surprised I had the energy to keep exercising, but I kept on. I began to feel numb, like a zombie, I didn't have enthusiasm for much anymore, including looking attractive or pleasing my parents. My hunger pangs disappeared, like they had given up on ever having a decent meal.
My friends began to comment on my drastic weight loss and someone who was concerned anonymously involved a school councillor for an in-school session. It didn't alter my perception, my battle was not yet won - I wanted to lose more weight. I reduced my calorie intake further still, I recall one day eating an apple and a cough lozenge as my whole daily intake. How was I able to function?
At 43 kgs, and 175 cms tall, I was a whisp, a shadow. Not only had my fat tissue disappeared but so had nearly all my muscle tissue. My mother sewed me a skirt as nothing else fitted and the waist was so small I'm sure I could have put it on a toddler. My parents insisted I see a psychiatrist. I felt insulted - was I officially a basket case? I didn't resist their intervention, but I felt determined that I would continue on my crusade regardless of what they had to say.
But, what they had to say brought home the cold, hard truth. The fact was that I had no more weight to lose. I was going to lose my life if I did not stop losing weight. I needed to put my battle aside and look at the big picture and think of my health and wellbeing and not the numbers on the scale. I had achieved my goal and it was time to stop depriving myself and making food the enemy.
I walked out of that therapy session and I gave myself permission to eat again. I still calorie counted out of habit and I still stressed a bit about the numbers being so high (compared with what they had been) but I convinced myself that it would do me good to eat more to heal my undernourished body and I decided it best to avoid the bathroom scales altogether and work on what felt and looked good to me. I can't show you photos of this time in my life, there are none. I guess it was before the time of the selfie and no one wanted to take a photo of me in that shape.
Over the next few months I gained weight and was allowed to return to the gym with my friends. I had a larger group of friends now that I had lost weight and felt more confident and at ease with myself. My health returned as did my menstruation cycle, some 9 months after it first disappeared. I looked and felt fantastic. I met a boy from school at the gym who became my first boyfriend and he became a bigger focus for me than my weight. It was like I had started a new life as a normal teenage girl. I no longer had to be invisible and I no longer worried about gaining the approval or affection of my parents. I had the love and attention of my boyfriend who adored me.
Between age 14 and 18 I slowly gained weight eventually settling at around 65 kgs - a healthy weight for my full height of 177cms.
I maintained this weight, through staying active and eating in moderation (with a few slip-ups and gains) up to around age 20 but then began to fluctuate around 70-73 kgs. It wasn't a horrendous weight, but it was the heaviest I'd ever been and I was unhappy with by body image (crazy huh?)
At 21 I began dating my now husband (this is our first photo together) and then my weight crept up further still to 75-76kgs. At this size I thought I was huge.
What would my 21 year old self have said if I went back in time at told her that she would one day reach over 110 kgs and wear a size 20! I think she would have been devastated, like I had told her she would get cancer. She would feel ripped off and want to know how I could do that to her.
I guess she wouldn't have the benefit of knowing what her future holds - pregnancies and personal struggles , or that she is not the only person in the future who struggles with their weight (let's face it, there is an epidemic out there). I would have to empathise with her. I feel guilty for not doing something to prevent it, I did allow myself to get too big, I was border-line morbidly obese and on my way to joint issues, diabetes and heart disease.
All that is in my past now. All I can do to heal the damage I've done is make sure that I stay focused on my wellbeing and on course for the future.