I am Megan

I wear big knickers. Bigger than I have ever worn before. Bigger than I ever expected to wear. My tummy has become so large that it sits on my lap when I sit down. When I walk, it moves of it's own accord, in great rippling waves of cake and butter. I have back boobs and bingo wings, scars between my thighs where they rub together. My calves don't fit into wellyboots. I avoid looking at myself whenever possible. My skin is suffering. It is dry. It creases. I have acne not just on my face; but on my back, my chest, my shoulders and arms. I have to avoid many shops which don't sell my size. I compare myself to others constantly.

People always tell you that you will never again look as good as you do in your twenties. I am 25 and I disgust myself.

Enough of the self-pity. I am not all bad. I know that the number on my scales isn't everything. I have a postgraduate diploma in law. I work for a very successful law firm and enjoy my job. I have wonderful family and friends. I consider myself a good friend and I try to be respectful and kind to everybody. All is not lost. But the outside me is not a reflection of the Megan I feel like inside. I feel spritely, young and enthusiastic. I am up for adventures, trying new things, discovering new places, new hobbies and new people.

And so it is with great trepidation and a whizz of excitement, that I am going to Slimming World for the first time tonight. A number of my colleagues have tried it and I have sat here with my chocolate bars, envious of the fat melting off them. I intend to record my Slimming World journey on here. The highs and the lows. I am not expecting miracles. I just want to be able to show the world who I really am.

I am not the fat girl. I am Megan.