From Relationships to Excess Skin

Hi, I'm Sally.

I'm 34 years old and now weigh the lowest I ever have as an adult. I have 2 wonderful sons ages 11 & 8 and a very supportive partner. My sons are the reason for this entire journey.

I won't bore you with all the details, but just a brief synopsis.

Let's rewind 16 years ago (2008), as a teenager, finishing college and enjoying life. I met my ex husband online and we began a serious relationship. We quickly moved in together and the relationship built up pace. Soon enough, his real side began to show, with narcissism & gas lighting at every turn. In one breath he'd encourage poor eating habits, saying he liked big girls, then in the next saying I'm lucky to have him because no one would ever love me as big as I was. In addition, he'd often be on dating apps, messaging other women and meeting up with them. This continued for years and i was so deluded, I'd let it slide each time. He'd promised me I'd never have to work, he'd take care of us both, he wouldn't let me get a job, saying I wouldn't be able to spend time with him - his control I guess. I had a part time job as a waitress, but he'd often be there in the restaurant a couple of times a day, checking in.

In 2013 I gave birth to my first son and life got harder, as it does for all parents. But this had additional struggles, I stopped working and my full attention was on our new born. My ex husband didn't like this, he wanted me to focus more on him. I struggled and found a slight balance, whilst neglecting myself. I fell into depression and anxiety and couldn't see a way out. Eating became a comfort and the only enjoyment I had.

18 months later, my ex husband asked for another baby. I was reluctant. I knew I'd gained a lot of weight and the pregnancy was risky. I also didn't want the added stress and pressure, when I was already struggling. But I couldn't say no to him. My life would have been made hell. He'd have gone into rages and met more women, because I didn't give him what he wanted. So, I agreed, for - strangley enough, an easy life.

During the next 6 months, I lost 2 babies. I think my body was trying to tell me then, this isn't right. However a few months later when we'd pretty much given up, I fell pregnant with my youngest son. During this pregnancy, I probably felt my lowest. I was ballooning, I had pressure on my pelvis, hips, spine & knees. During our first scan, my ex husband decided he'd sit in the car instead. There were a couple of issues with the babies kidneys, which obviously worried me, but I was in the scan room on my own, so tried to hold it together, wishing I wasn't alone. A few weeks later, I found out that whilst I was having the scan, my ex husband was in fact in the car messaging another woman and had arranged to meet up. At this point enough was enough, I asked him to leave. He spent a week at a friend's house. I was adamant on continuing the pregnancy alone, no matter how hard and with an 18 month old in tow.

However, in a few smooth lines and a bunch of flowers, I've taken him back. He also asked me to marry him, as a promise he wouldn't cheat again. Naively I agreed.

Our youngest son was born in 2015, and we were married 7 months later.

Our wedding day is a whole other story, but let's just say, for a huge proportion of the day, he wasn't there.

So life continued, all my attention was now on 2 children and my ex husband was 3rd in the line. He really wasn't happy with this so began to spend less time at home. He'd often be out "fishing" most evenings.

This I found out, was actually an affair. The female ended up pregnant and wasn't sure who the father was. I stuck by him and also paid for a DNA test, even offered (if it was his) to raise the child, as the mother was struggling. I never saw the results but he says the child wasn't his.

As all the focus still wasn't on him, he began to work an elaborate story. He needed to be in the limelight again. So over a period of 6 months, he started to lose the use of his legs, sometimes speech, general movements and incontinence. Eventually he was "paralysed" from the wasit down. So, now I had 3 people to care for. A 4yr old, a 2yr old and a disabled husband. I did it. Never questioned anything, I put myself last, put on a brave face and did it. I even broke my ankle while attempting to push my ex husband up the ramp to our house. The Dr sent me to the hospital, but I wasnt able to go to hospital to have it sorted, i didn’t have the time or support. I had 3 people to care for. So lots of over the counter painkillers and resting when i could, it eventually healed, but not correctly so now my ankle doesn't bend how it should. All this while I'm crushing inside with very little sleep (around 3-4hrs a night), depression and anxiety peaked, food was anything convenient because I had very little time to cook wonderful meals anymore, as a full time carer and parent. Most evenings would consist of a whole frozen pizza each with a bottle of cola or a bottle of wine. Or something quick and easy which can be thrown in the oven.

After about 6 months of being a carer, assisting with dressing, washing, toileting, eating, and pushing a wheelchair around with 2 toddlers running off ahead, something in me gave up. I had to ask him to leave. Although he was at his most vulnerable, it was the only time I'd felt strong enough to be free of him.

I felt awful, I didn't want to be "kicking out" a disabled man. But I had to. He'd made his way to his sisters house, 250 miles away. A few weeks later I had a call from his sister saying "do you realise, he's up and walking around perfectly fine?"

That was a huge slap in the face. To know everything I'd done for the past year, all the frustrating hospital and doctor appappointments when no one could find a diagnosis. It had all been for nothing. It wasn't real. It was his last bid at control, and attention.

That was my final straw, I filed for divorce and would never have him back.

By now, my eldest son was starting school and my youngest at nursery, I had a little time to myself, a few hours a day. I began to take some time for myself.

Over the 10 years I'd been with my ex husband, I'd ballooned to a size 32-34 and weighed just over 26 stone! I could no longer walk into shops and buy clothes, I didn't feel pretty. I could hear his voice telling me no one would love me like this.

But mostly, I didn't want my children to be bullied, because of how their mum looked.

So I decided to make some drastic changes. I had to lose weight. I'd tried all sorts of yo yo diets throughout the years, but never got anywhere. I couldn't physically go to the gym, let alone deal with the pure embarrassment and shame.

I approached my doctor about weight loss surgery. I needed to do this. I couldnt risk leaving my children without a mother if I continued on the route I was headed. I began the ball rolling, I felt in control.

I'd recieved lots of counselling and life started to get better.

During this time I met my partner Dan. I mentioned to him about the weight loss surgery route I was going down and if he didn't want to do that with me, I'd understand. He said his mum had had the surgery about 8 years previous and it was the best thing she ever did.

So now I had the support and the encouragement to do this. So I did.

I jumped through every hoop and hit every challenge I was set, so I was ready for the surgery. I'd lost 5% of my body weight, completed the counselling, seen the nutritionist, met the surgeon, done 2 weeks on the milk diet and now it was time to change.

4th Feb 2020 was surgery day. My boys were 7 and 5. I was terrified of not making it out of surgery and seeing their faces again. Leaving them alone. But the alternative wasn't an option. I went through with the surgery, I had a gastric bypass.

I knew what it would mean for the rest of my life. I knew the complications involved, the dumping syndrome, the lifetime of multivitamins and blood tests, the excess skin. I was prepared for it all, for my babies.

A few weeks later, we went into lockdown. So whilst everyone was piling on weight at home, I was lucky enough to be losing it. My birthday in the April was nothing like previous birthdays. I was barely on solid foods, but I had my health and my children, and I was so grateful.

Over the first 3 years, I lost 9.5 stone.

I have a small restriction, which also now means I'm physically not capable of vomiting. I can't have a lot of sugar because I get seriously ill. I got stuck at around 17 stone and couldn't shift the weight. My body had decided that was all it was losing, with the way I was doing it.

So I decided to join slimming world to try and kick start it. That's when the weight started to drop again and this time bought with it the excess skin. The skin I'd stretched so much over 20 years, now needed somewhere to go.

To date, I've now lost 13.5 stone in total and the skin keeps coming. Every day a new piece of skin is dangling somewhere or getting saggier. The worst places are my stomach, my arms and my thighs.

My stomach is what upsets me the most. Of all the hardships I've been through and now fixed, I can't fix this one. Skin removal surgery isn't on the NHS, which is why I'm asking for your help.

During the day it's hidden cleverly with clothes, but it still causes problems. Just walking down the stairs, it slaps my thighs.

I started clubbercise in January and the skin around my thighs and belly, slap eachother so hard, I come out with red painful marks. I push through it, I'm not giving up. But it would be lovely to exercise without the pain. At night time when i get into bed, I roll over but my stomach skin stays where it was, and pulls. I have to physically lift it up and carry over the other side with me. I'm always catching it in bed, laying on it and pulling it, ending up with sore red marks all over and waking me up. In the summer I have to use a special powder to stop the skin sweating and causing painful rashes.

And not to mention, its unsightly. I've never been about looks, I like to look good but that's not the be all and end all.

However this skin, plays with my head. I look at an outfit, size 14, knowing i can now fit in that and look good. But then I have to tuck the skin in somewhere or hide it with special shorts. After all the hard work I've put into the weight loss, it would mean the world to me, to just be able to appreciate it now. And enjoy the body I've now almost fixed.

I know the blame doesn't lie solely with my ex, I was the person eating all the food and making the wrong decisions, but without any support and being constantly demeaned it was a tough cycle to break.

Skin removal surgery for my stomach is around £8,000 in the UK, which I simply can't afford on my own. I'd love to be able to run around with my children and not be in pain, or hear slapping sounds with every step. And mostly I want to make my children proud, and for them to know, you can do anything you want in this world if you try hard enough. And with the support of others, you can achieve your goals.

If you've read this far, thank you, and yes this was very much the watered down version of my journey. But what a journey.

I wouldn't change my life, its made me who I am. I just need that extra little support from you, to help me achieve my dream. Many thanks