A prisoner in my own body

Bedridden because of her weight, Sue Michael, 60, knew something had to change

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Placing a steaming mug of hot tea and a sandwich on the bedside table, my husband leaned over to give me a kiss. ‘Call if you need me,’ Tony, then 60, said and I sighed as he closed the door behind him.

‘Another day of Homes Under The Hammer,’ I said to myself. It was April 2018 and a few weeks earlier, I’d broken my leg. Yet, while most people would be able to struggle into work on crutches, I was bedridden because I was so overweight at 20st 2lb and a size 24. The added burden of a plaster cast on my leg meant I could barely move.

For years, I’d been in denial about how big I was. Even as a teenager, I’d been on the podgy side, and when I met and moved in with Tony in my early 20s, we loved to go out for dinner or cook up enormous batches of dishes such as lasagne.

By the time we got married in 1989, I was a size 14. Then, after Joe came along in 1990 and Laura in 1992, I never lost any of my pregnancy weight. Each year, I’d try a new fad diet, but nothing ever stuck.

By 40, I had to shop online for anything big enough that came in black. ‘Come in the pool, Mum!’ the kids, then nine and 11, would say on our annual family holiday. ‘Not right now, darlings,’ I’d call back from my spot on a sun lounger. I hated the idea of people staring at me and it was a struggle to find a swimming costume that fitted, let alone one in which I felt comfortable.

‘You’re beautiful to me,’ Tony would reassure me whenever I groaned about finding something flattering to wear for an evening out. He’d put on weight, too, but his tall stature and broad shoulders meant he carried it well.