To take control of your health again is a huge deal, and after having great success over an 18‑month period, losing around 50kgs, I realised so much had changed for me. And I don’t just mean my dress size. There were things I observed and experienced that were unexpected, many of them good, some not so good, but all interesting enough to share.

I should start by saying I was not an unhappy fat person. I’ve seen many people, both on TV and in real life, whose weight defined who they were. I was fortunate to have three incredibly encouraging parents, so my self‑worth was always about who I was as a person, not what I looked like.

It had been many years since I could shop in a regular women’s boutique, and I relished the fact that suddenly all stores stocked my size. Shopping became a treat again. Having options felt incredible. But with that came the realisation that now I would be attentively looked after, not just in clothing stores but everywhere. Suddenly I wasn’t invisible. I’ve always been friendly and engaged with people, but now sales assistants approached me first. I understand that when you look a certain way you attract more, or less, attention. But my money was worth the same when I tipped the scales at 125kgs.

Then came two things I never expected and still laugh about. First: sitting on hard surfaces. It turns out I have bones in my butt. I had so much padding before that I never anticipated the discomfort of wooden or steel chairs. I can recall asking for a pillow more than once. These days I just deal with it because I’ve become accustomed to it.

The second thing no one told me: I was going to be cold. All the time. My extra kilos had been a built‑in layer that kept me warm year‑round. Suddenly, on a mild day, I’d be shivering like it was winter. I didn’t expect this at all, and now I dress accordingly.

When you’re bigger, planes can be your worst nightmare. I used to be conscious of my overhang into the seat beside me, often opting for an aisle seat so I could spill over that way instead of onto a neighbour. Even before sitting down, navigating the aisle was a mission, trying not to brush my hips against people. I’d go to the bathroom before boarding to minimise movement during the flight. And then there was the seatbelt. Would it fit? Would I have to breathe in? Would it cut off my circulation? Or worse, would I have to ask for an extension belt. Humiliating but sometimes necessary.

And if that wasn’t enough, there was the tray table. Often it wouldn’t come down properly because it rested on my stomach at an angle, making it impossible to balance anything. I’d either hold my drink or food, or politely decline altogether. People take these simple things for granted, but for me, even a one‑hour flight required planning and quiet anxiety.

I will never forget my first plane trip after losing weight. I could take any seat I liked, even the middle. I could use the tray table. There was room on either side of my seat. And the seatbelt had extra length; I actually had to tighten it. I was so excited I took photos.

Have you ever had to think about walking through a car park? I used to scan ahead to find gaps wide enough between cars so I wouldn’t have to squeeze past mirrors. It was like a choreographed dance, ducking and weaving just to get my weekly shopping done. Parking was another challenge. I had to make sure I could actually get out of the car, and my heart would sink when someone parked too close. More than once I had to climb in through the passenger side. I often wondered if someone was filming me as I manoeuvred across the seats.

Now to the shallow part of this blog: how I look. I know appearance affects how people interact with you. At 125kgs, talking to people was just seen as friendliness. Now there’s a shift, particularly with men. The brazen attempts to touch me or kiss me without invitation were shocking. As a mature woman, I’ve given many a dressing down for inappropriate behaviour, not just toward me but toward younger women too. I was surprised by what some men considered acceptable. It’s not something I tolerate.

Given my new love of shopping, it’s safe to say that if I leave the house, I feel good in what I’m wearing. My body is still a work in progress, so there are still squishy bits to cover. But it doesn’t seem to matter what I wear. I’ve been out in tracksuit pants and ugg boots, or in a cowboy hat, a Drizabone and Doc Martens, and I’m still looked at a certain way. An interesting social experiment. The downside is that women interact with me less in social settings. They often look me up and down instead of returning a smile. This never happened when I was overweight.

Crossing roads, cars stop. Shopping, I’m always approached. Waiting in lines, I’m let in front.

These aren’t strange coincidences. The only thing that has changed is how I look.

The best part is that when I look back at my social media memories, I’m reminded of how far I’ve come, but also fascinated by the photos where I can say, “I felt like I looked great that day,” no matter what size I was, 125kg or 75kg. Below is an album of those times.

Just remember that old saying: treat others the way you want to be treated. Being able to treat everyone the same, regardless of size, is a truly wonderful gift you can give.