Baby got back... and front.
When I reach eight and a half stone...
I will be able to shop in Topshop. I will be able to go swimming and not displace all the water and create a tsunami. I will fit in changing rooms, without banging my elbows or exposing the moon of my arse through the curtain when I bend over.
I won't go blind from Type 2 Diabetes, or lose my toes, which I haven't seen since 1996 without the aid of a sel e-stick. I will be promoted and not have my desk moved to inside the stationery cupboard.
Being morbidly obese is not the same as being disabled, because I can change. I can lose the weight. It's mathematics, surely. Chemistry. Physics. All the hard lessons I never enjoyed.
I will be beach body ready at all times, even in snow. My children will no longer be ashamed of me. I will triumph at the egg and spoon race rather than stopping to nibble on it.
My husband will love me. My life will start. I will be happy. I will be thin.