I'm Fat, Not Pregnant!

When people at work kept congratulating her, Donna Lawrie, 35, was left mortified

- Frances Leate

Breathing heavily as I slowly heaved myself up the stairs, I glanced up to see one of my male work colleagues looking down at me in sympathy.

‘Not long to go now by the looks of it,’ he said, nodding at my swollen belly.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I gazed at the floor, desperately thinking of something to say.

‘Ah no, just a food baby!’ I laughed awkwardly, launching myself up the rest of the stairs as quickly as I could. Anything to avoid the shocked look on his face. He hadn’t meant anything by it, but my eyes started to prickle with tears. All afternoon, I sat at my desk in silence. How had I let things get so bad?

Facing facts

The truth was, I did look pregnant. I’d always been chubby growing up and then at university, gorging on stodgy food like burgers, chips, and pizza, my weight crept up even more. Now, in April 2017, aged 33, I was the heaviest I’d ever been and weighed 15th 2lb. I was only 5ft 4in and carried a lot of weight on my face and tummy, which bulged over my trousers.

I felt unhappy with my weight, but I was trapped in a cycle of eating and then feeling bad, so than eating even more. I’d been like that for years and if I was stressed, feeling down or sometimes just tired, I’d gorge on biscuits, chocolate, and cakes. It didn’t help that opposite my office where I worked as a project officer there was a sandwich shop. So even when I’d managed to make it into work after cereal for breakfast, I’d be straight over to get a bacon, hash brown, and egg butty.