The old-school weight-loss technique that saved me when fats jabs failed and my weight plateaued. Within 9 months I’d gone from a measurement 22 to a measurement 10… it ended 20 years of struggles and self-loathing

The moment I administered my first weight-loss jab, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

I’d been dieting since I was 15 – trying everything from the cabbage soup diet to slimming clubs and even juice cleanses.

But nothing worked, not long-term anyway. At 38, I weighed 20st, was a size 22 and didn’t have the energy to yo-yo diet any longer. So the thought that this injection would end nearly 20 years of struggles and self-loathing seemed nothing short of miraculous.

What I didn’t realise was that my triumph would be short-lived. There would be no weight-loss jab fairytale ending for me.

Now 42, I weigh 11st and wear a dress size 10 – but I had to resort to a far more ‘old school’ method in order to get here.

I’ve always been self-conscious about my size. As a teenager all my friends seemed tiny, but at 5ft 11in and a size 14 I felt huge and unattractive in comparison.

That feeling never properly left me even when, aged 19, I got together with my husband Matt, a firefighter, who I’d been friends with since school.

It didn’t help that once we were living together I got into the habit of eating the same portion sizes as him – but while he stayed slim I just put on more weight.

At 27 we got engaged and I was horrified to discover I would need a size 18 wedding dress. In the end, thanks to protein shakes, I managed to slim to a size 14 for our big day, but afterwards the weight came back on. I was ­constantly hit by food cravings, the food noise near constant.

I put more on when I got pregnant with our daughter Liv in 2010 and again with our son Spencer five years later, yo-yo dieting in between pregnancies.

Even qualifying to be a personal trainer didn’t help shift the weight long-term and I struggled with back pain from three slipped discs. Then in 2022, when I weighed 20st, I started hearing about weight-loss jabs and seeing photos of celebrities who’d lost tons of weight. It felt like my prayers had been answered.

Impatient to get started, I didn’t explore whether I was eligible on the NHS but paid for a four-month course of Saxenda.

It worked like a charm; I lost 3st and loved not feeling hungry for the first time in my life.

But I worried about being able to afford £180 a month long-term and, assuming that without any food noise I could maintain the weight loss, I stopped the jabs.

However, my appetite came back with a vengeance.

Six months later, I found myself bigger than when I’d started, ­tipping the scales at 21st.

I tried the jabs again, but even though it was the same medication, this time I didn’t experience any appetite suppression – and so didn’t lose any weight. Feeling disillusioned, I stopped.

But now my back pain was worse than ever. It was so bad, my son often had to put my shoes on for me since I couldn’t bend over to do it myself. Eventually, in March 2023, I had an NHS referral to ­discuss possible surgery.

After a scan, the orthopaedic surgeon explained I was risking nerve damage to my left leg and even risked losing the use of it if I wasn’t able to have the surgery.

Yet there was a problem. Being so overweight meant it was too risky for them to perform the op.

‘But I’ve tried everything, even weight-loss jabs,’ I tearfully told him.

‘Have you considered a gastric sleeve?’ he asked.

I’d never thought about it, because surely I wasn’t big enough to qualify for something as extreme as weight-loss surgery? But he said that at 20st 8lb I had a BMI of 41.2, making me morbidly obese, so I was eligible. I told him I’d think about it. Yet back home, Matt was aghast after learning about the risks of the procedure, including blood clots and infections.

‘It all sounds a bit drastic,’ he warned me. I didn’t know what to do. Then one night a few weeks later, I hit rock bottom.

I was heading for a night out with friends and had spent ages doing my hair and make-up.

I thought I looked nice – wearing a slinky black bodysuit and skinny jeans – so I asked Matt to snap a photo of me before I left.

‘You look amazing, love,’ he told me. But later, as I was getting out of the cab, I heard someone ­heckling me. ‘It’s Gemma Collins!’ a stranger catcalled. I was speechless. Not to mention devastated.

Sure, TOWIE’s Gemma is ­stunning, but she is also famed for being a plus-size poster girl – and I was desperate to be slim.

Combined with my fear about what would happen if I couldn’t have the surgery, that night was a turning point for me.

‘I can’t do this any more,’ I told Matt the next day and thankfully he said he would support me if I wanted to go ahead with the ­gastric sleeve.

As the NHS waiting list for ­bariatric surgery was a long one, I felt I had no choice but to dip into my savings from my job at a care home in order to have the £10,000 procedure done privately in the UK in May 2023.

Not everyone was supportive – some friends and family thought I was crazy. Many people assume that those who are overweight could lose it ‘if they tried’, so are unsympathetic towards people taking a surgical route.

But Matt and the kids, then 13 and seven, couldn’t have been more amazing – they knew my long-term health depended on it.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous beforehand and I sobbed when I said goodbye to them. The keyhole surgery went well. Recovery was brutal, however.

My stomach had been permanently reduced by 80 per cent, so afterwards, I was on a liquid-only diet for two weeks, sipping bone broth. Then I could move on to eating a ramekin-dish sized ­portion of pureed food – tuna mayo, Weetabix and banana, mash with cottage cheese.

Eventually, I could eat normal food again, but only off a side plate. While, a year after the ­operation, my appetite did return, I couldn’t physically eat anything more than a tiny amount or I’d feel sick.

But the weight dropped off. In nine months I lost 9st, taking me to a size 10. I felt amazing.

My confidence soared being able to wear what I wanted, and I had so much energy. My back pain eased too.

Last year, I had a follow-up appointment with the same orthopaedic surgeon, who told me that now I’d lost the weight, I wouldn’t actually need any ­surgery yet, which was incredible news.

And the weight has stayed off. Yes, I’ve been left with a little loose skin on my tummy, but I think I’ve been lucky that because I’m so tall, the loose skin hasn’t been as extreme as it can be for some people.

In fact, in November 2025 I even entered Miss Bariatric UK, a beauty pageant for those who have had weight-loss surgery.

It was a chance to celebrate my success and meet other women like me who’d been on a similar journey. Competing in the over-35s ­category, there were four ­sections, including a swimwear round in front of hundreds of people.

I know for most women this would fill them with horror, and I would have once felt that way, too. But I wore a red cut-out one piece and felt incredible, more confident than I ever had.

When they announced I’d won, I went into shock. It made me ­realise how far I’d come.

Now, at 42, I’ve never felt better. I’m even helping to organise a weight-loss festival near Bath this summer called Barifest to help those who have lost weight get together, celebrate, and learn more about nutrition and healthy weight maintenance.

After all, losing weight has given me my life back, so I want other people to know it is possible – whether you do it by joining the crowds of jabbers, or trying something ­different, even if it is the ‘drastic’ choice.

As told to Bethan King