For years I was too self-conscious about my size to speak to boys. I assumed that even if I did talk to them, they wouldn’t be interested in me – especially as sometimes lads would comment on how big I was. While these strangers didn’t seem to have a problem talking about my weight, it was more difficult for my family. I think I would have listened to my mum if she’d told me how worried she was, but she kept quiet because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. She knew how low I felt and, understandably, didn’t want to make me feel worse.
The bigger I got, the more my confidence shrank. I found clothes shopping embarrassing. I’d go into Topshop and compare myself with other girls trying on their skimpy outfits, then get upset in the changing room because I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror. The worst time was when I was on a trip to Las Vegas with my mum; we went to Urban Outfitters for a treat and I couldn’t find a single item of clothing that fitted me. I sobbed and sobbed, thinking ‘I’m 19 – this is the time of my life when I should be looking my best and instead I feel humiliated about my body’.