Sweating in the spring sunshine, I watched my husband Nev, then 44, dashing around with our kids Rihanna, then five, and David, four. It was May 2012 and we’d brought them to our local park. ‘If only I could join them,’ I thought, sadly.
At 5ft 8in and size 26, I couldn’t climb stairs without feeling dizzy, let alone chase after Rihanna and David.
I was so self-conscious about my weight, I usually stayed in. Today, Nev had coaxed me out, but the five-minute walk from our home to the park in Swanley, Kent, had wiped me out.
‘I desperately tried to prise the swing from my bum’ ‘I’ll just rest here,’ I panted, settling myself on a swing and trying to catch my breath. Five minutes later, Nev bounded…
