JENNI MURRAY: When I was 24, I tried to fool myself that I was fat and happy

I tried so hard to convince myself, back in the late 1990s and early 2000s, when I tipped the scales at 24, that instead of being morbidly obese, I was fat, fit and happy. After all, that was the trend of the time.

Fat shaming was cruel and even the word was all but banned. But what a dangerous message this has turned out to be.

Dreadful news has emerged this week after four social media influencers, who promoted the body positivity movement’s claims that obesity is healthy, all died under the age of 45.

It is simply not safe to ignore the fact that obesity increases the risk of dangerous diseases such as type 2 diabetes, stroke, cancer, arthritis and poor mental health.

We can now see that wholeheartedly swallowing the message of fat activists and the body positivity movement can lead to those terrible diseases and premature death.

Obesity-related hospital admissions have doubled in six years to more than 3,000 people per day. There are three times as many admissions related to obesity as smoking, and more than twenty children a day end up in hospital because they are obese.

No wonder there are no beds for anyone in an emergency.

Whatever happened to previous conversations about how the ever-increasing population size could be reduced? Why do you still see endless TV ads for junk food? What happened to the requirements for sugar and salt reductions?

Why was Henry Dimbleby’s much-vaunted National Food Strategy seemingly shelved when it proposed the provision of safe, healthy and affordable food, regardless of where people live or their wealth?

It’s not just the body positivity movement that got us into this costly mess. There is a clear lack of political will to solve this.

Body positivity was a message that never got through to my brutally honest mother. How many times have I heard: ‘What are you doing to yourself, you’re so fat. It’s time to lose weight.’ They were, as I recall, some of the last words I heard from her before she died. I didn’t pay her any attention and told her never to use the word “fat” to describe anyone. After all, it wasn’t like I hadn’t tried. I had tried every diet and only got bigger. She should be happy with a daughter who was fit and healthy, had raised two lovely grandsons and had a good job.

Deep in my heart I knew I was lying. I was fat and even though I pretended not to care, I only dressed in black baggy tops, but longed to be able to walk into a clothing store and see something stylish that might fit.

Friends never commented on my ever-increasing size. They were far too polite and seduced by the fat-shaming cult to be rude enough to risk hurting my feelings.

Men on the street were less sensitive. I often heard: ‘Fat cow. You wouldn’t want to go there, would you?’ I muttered as I walked past.

Funnily enough, my doctor never mentioned the damage I was doing to my health. Maybe because she didn’t think it was worth worrying about, since she too was overweight and I had no signs of impending type 2 diabetes.

It was the new doctor I registered with when I moved into my little house in North London who wasn’t afraid to be blunt.

“What are we going to do about your weight?” was the first thing he asked. He was quite an older man and didn’t feel nervous about ‘fat shaming’ me. He was sympathetic to my endless stories about dieting, losing a little weight and then gaining it back, and seemed to understand that this was a familiar pattern. He suggested having a balloon inserted into my stomach. It would be a temporary trick: I would lose weight and then the balloon could be removed.

But that made no sense to me. Surely it would be like dieting and the weight would probably return in an even greater amount.

I have done research into the impact of surgery. A gastric sleeve would permanently reduce the size of my stomach. No one who had it developed type 2 diabetes. I would lose weight and save the NHS a fortune in treatments that would be needed if I stayed as I was and developed diabetes.

The NHS seemed reluctant to make it easy to get the operation, so I decided to pay for it with money my mother left me in her will.

I’m sure she would have been thrilled if I had lost half my body weight in a year. I recovered quickly from the surgery, survived for a fortnight on fluids, quickly transitioned to pureed foods, and then started eating normally, albeit in smaller portions.

Like my slim friend Sally, I now eat half the food on my plate at dinner and maybe one or two chips instead of a bowl full.

I only wish I had done it sooner, and now feel very sorry for those who struggle with their weight. Trying to pretend it’s healthy or that you don’t care is not the answer.

If only the quality of our diet could be improved and the NHS would spend money where it is needed: on surgical solutions. It would save money in the longer term.

As for fat positivity? There is nothing positive about being fat.

Stop being a material girl, Madonna

Madonna, a legend if ever there was one, was due to play Glastonbury next year in the Sunday ‘legends’ slot. The news may have seen me put on my boots and go for the first time.

But unfortunately she will not perform because her show would cost the organizers too much.

The star has enormous wealth. Couldn’t she lower her fee? It seems like she’s taking the name Material Girl too far.

I wrote about Diana Rigg and her desire for change in the assisted death law. Now Esther Rantzen, who has lung cancer, has registered with Dignitas. She doesn’t have to worry about her family breaking the law when they go to Switzerland. Legally, she should receive help at home, with her family around her.

Was it wise to say no to the smart meter?

I haven’t seen my latest electric bill yet, but I have checked my bank account. There are no signs yet of thousands of euros being debited by direct debit.

What a shock Sir Grayson Perry must have had when EDF tried to take £39,000, when his monthly bill is usually £300. Perry partly blames the smart meter installed in one of his art studios.

I have been harassed to get a meter but have done nothing. A nice man comes by and reads my old meter, like he always did. I guess I did the right thing.

Finally common sense for schools if a child wants to change gender. Parents must be informed and boys and girls must have separate toilets. But these are guidelines, not rules. It is not enough. Teachers should not make their own rules on sensitive issues.

At least Michelle is honest about one thing

Michelle Mone, also known as Baroness Bra, is set to make a fortune from her husband’s firm, which received more than £200 million in funding from the government’s ‘VIP lane’ for personal protective equipment during the pandemic.

The case is now under investigation regarding conspiracy to defraud, fraud by misrepresentation and bribery.

Mone said people probably see her as “a terrible person, a liar, a cheater and a thief.”

At once, Michelle!