My Battle Losing The Baby Weight

Tracey despaired of ever shredding her baby weight, until she looked at it a very different way…

Rows of sausages sizzled away in my frying pan, spitting fat as the browned. “Delicious,” I sighed happily to my hubby Adrian, 40, as I served our traditional Sunday fry-up. Three sausages each, fried eggs, fried bread, beans…

I was unable to resist any food that was fatty, greasy- and destined to plonk itself straight on my hips. No wonder I’d got so porky over the years! For here I was now, weighing 19st 1lb at 5ft 5in. Part of it was the baby weight I’d never shifted after having Jamie, 17, and Kerrie, 15. But really, the blame lay firmly on my shoulders. All those greasy fried foods… the snacks of sugary doughnuts between my chip dinners and takeaways…

When my twin Mark and I turned 40, we threw a joint party in a lovely hotel.

But I felt sick beforehand, flicking through oversized skirts and too-tight trousers in my wardrobe.

“You look lovely,” guests said kindly, when I finally turned up in a size 22 orange jumper and long brown skirt. Yeah, right.

As the band played Sixties classics, I jiggled on the dance floor, trying to ignore my wheeze, my wobbling flab and the sweat trickling down my back. I took solace in the buffet. Munching sausage rolls, of course… It cheered me up no end. But looking at everyone’s party photos afterwards, I plummeted back to earth.

“I look terrible,” I gasped to Adrian. And felt so desperate. All my previous diets had fallen miserably.

But then Mum, who was 12st 10lbs at 5ft 4in, said she wanted to lose weight too.

“Let’s join a slimming club!” I suggested. Then we’d both be able to support each other.

After our first meeting, I felt really enthusiastic.

“No more sausages for me,” I told Adrian. Instead, I had porridge and fruit for breakfast, sensible jacket potatoes and salad for tea. And amazingly, the buzz of feeling healthy meant I didn’t miss those fatty tempting treats.

I walked miles with our Labrador Cassie to. And a month on, I’d lost a stone! “Brilliant,” I beamed. But at the next weigh-in… “I’ve only lost one pound this week,” I sighed.

“Don’t worry,” a fellow slimmer shrugged. “That’s equivalent to loosing eight sausages.”

I laughed. Suddenly, it didn’t seem that bad. From then on, I’d think in terms of ‘sausages’.

“You’ve lost four pounds,” the group leader would say.

“Thirty two sausages!” I’d announced to Adrian when I arrived home. He thought it was hilarious.

And finally, after three years, I hit my dream target weight. While Mum was 11st 8lb, a trim size 14, I was down to 10st 8lb, a sleek size 10 to 12. Now, it was me sizzling in my trendy new clothes, crackling with energy. And one day… “In total I’ve lost eight and a half stone,” I mused. I wonder just how many sausages that is. A cheeky smile spread across my face.

“Let’s find out,” he said, “I’ll ask the local butcher to show us that many sausages!”

I laughed. It was crazy! Do you think he’ll do it?” I said.

“We can try,” he grinned.

My heart was in my mouth as we visited Browne’s Butchers in Diss, Norfolk, and Adrian made our bizarre request.

“I’ve never been asked that before!” the butcher said puzzled.

“It’s the amount of weight my wife’s lost in the past three years,” Adrian said. “We’d love to see it.”

The butcher beamed. “Give me a week,” he replied.

“Thanks!” I smiled, delighted. I couldn’t wait to return. Adrian brought his camera especially.

As soon as we walked into the shop, I gaped. Because behind the counter, hanging in four meat hooks, was hat looked like a million sausages!

“There are 952 there,” the butcher announced. “They weigh exactly 8½ stone.”

“Wow!” I said, shocked.

Then I pulled on the white jacket he gave me and washed my hands. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I stood before the camera, posing between the sausage curtains. As customers stared, bemused, the butcher chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe I carried so much bulk around,” I marvelled, taking the weight in my arms. Each of the four bundles was over two stone. “No wonder I was always feeling exhausted!” And imagining all the fat in them, I shuddered to think how many I’d wolfed down in my life. Never again.

“I’m so proud of you,” Adrian smiled. I felt it too.

Now two months on, if I’m ever tempted by greasy grub, I just remember that day in the butcher’s and give myself a real grilling. This slimline figure is now a banger-free zone.