Diet or bust!

I was so big, I thought I’d suffocate my own son Becky Hill, 32, Bromyard

- MISHAAL KHAN, EMMA ROBERTSON

Walking into the playground, a dozen sets of eyes dart from my face to my chest.

‘ET!’ a couple of the lads yelled at me.

They weren’t referring to the little alien on a bicycle.

For me, ET stood for something else.

Enormous tits. Not kind. But, to be fair, they weren’t wrong.

I’d started developing early – and by 15, I was wearing a 36DD bra.

I was a size 16, too. Bigger and bustier than all the girls in my class.

Always piled my plate high, had seconds.

Having massive breasts meant buying unflattering clothes.

A neckline too low made it look like I was trying to get attention.

Really, it was the opposite – I was fed up with the stares!

Though I knew losing weight could help, years passed and I could never find the motivation.

When my twins Isla and Chloe were born in March 2011, I was a size 18-20.

And, busy with my babies, food became about convenience.

Pre-packed sandwiches and crisps for lunch.

Cheesy pasta or ready meals for dinner.

After the girls, my boobs grew even more, to a 42G.

‘Sorry, we don’t stock G-cups,’ the sales assistants told me sympathetically time and again.

Seeing my smaller-busted friends in strappy tops, I burned with envy.

Desperate to hide away, I layered up in jumpers and baggy trousers, and even started to cover my arms with tattoos.

In May 2016, determined to lose my pregnancy weight, I cut out carbs, tried meal-replacement shakes.

But I was hungry and miserable, and soon was back to binging.