‘The effect of love is that there is a whole section of my wardrobe filled with clothes that no longer fit. I am keeping them in case we ever split up.’ (Jane, 33)

‘I’ve put on weight.’ (Miriam, 23)

‘It’s like I didn’t value myself any more. I fell in love, we got engaged and leading up to the wedding I had this goal: come hell or high water I was going to be skinny on the day. But after that I sort of gave in to it and the weight started slowly piling on.’ (Clarissa, 38)

‘I got really fat. I am really fat. I stayed fat. Thanks, Love.’ (Rosanne, 47)

‘For me it was hardest after the kids arrived. I just couldn’t shift the weight I’d gained. And it seemed selfish to insist that I needed time out a few times a week to go to the gym or for a run; my husband didn’t have time to do these things so why should I? And I wasn’t really sure what my motivation was. To say it was just about feeling good about myself, feeling sexy and enjoying my body seemed inappropriate. I was a wife and a mother, not a hormone-filled teenager. So maybe love stole my focus? It was certainly that lack of focus that ultimately played a massive part in the destruction of my marriage. I didn’t feel sexy. I started to dislike myself and my body. Eventually he felt the same way.’ (Hina, 42)

the birth of fat camp

the boardroom | true love

They sat there nervous. They sat there scared. Some of them sat there defensively as if they had already changed their minds in the lift on the way up and now, faced with a hyperactive Federico, who had changed into a white T-shirt that said ‘skinny people are happy’, were going to do everything possible to stay the size they were. One had her hand in a bowl of red Haribo, a second was munching her way through a bag of Kettle Chips, a lady in the far corner was nibbling on one of those chocolate diet bars that tells you it’s fat free, which of course it is, it’s totally fat free and 100% sugar-coated and will make you balloon faster than a hydraulic tyre inflator. In fact the only person in the boardroom who wasn’t eating was Chad. He stood silently in the corner watching Federico, who was running from lady to lady telling them they were all so much more beautiful in the flesh before grimacing at their headshots pinned on the wall.

Bob, the man we had all been waiting for, finally arrived at 10 a.m. He was a famous motivational speaker from California and was going to be Fat Camp’s life coach: the positive voice to help make the positive change that would positively reduce in a negative decreasing way their physical size. He had called True Love as soon as my unauthorised advert had gone to press.

‘Kate …’ he had said, sounding exactly like Woody Allen (and on meeting him I discovered he was the exact same size). ‘Kate, this is such a wonderful idea. People become stuck, Kate. They become stuck. To give them a chance to realise their dreams, however small or large, to let life surprise them, in a good way, well, that is truly a wondrous endeavour. I want to be involved.’ He then emailed me a hyperlink to a TED talk4 on achieving change, and a 10% discount for his new book available on Amazon and Kindle.

‘Ladies, we all know that certain foods aren’t good for us,’ Bob began, positively beaming at the room. ‘We know that exercise can make you thinner, that if you exceed your calorie intake you’ll store the food as fat. We probably also know that a lot of people get bigger when they fall in love. There are literally thousands of studies published on the subject. But I don’t want to talk about that. I want to talk about the woman who lives down the street from you, let’s call her Catharine. Catharine meets a new guy. She falls in love. She moves in with him. Someone asks you how Catharine’s doing and you say “Oh, she looks really well,” but what you really mean is that she looks really happy and she looks really really fat, because that is what most of us do. Not the Brangelinas5 of this world—us, the real people, the normal people. We meet someone. We want to stay in with them. We want to kiss them. We want to feed them nice food. We’ve waited so long to meet this special person we want to indulge in it. And we should. And … we … should! Plus our boyfriend says he likes our new curves. We love him so much we find his squishy new tummy so cute and sexy. But when the honeymoon period comes to an end, and it always does, you don’t feel sexy and curvaceous any more. You wonder why you can’t fit in most of your clothes, why your thighs spread to fill the chair when you sit down, or your boobs barely fit into your bra. And that’s before we mention those bat wings under your arms, or your bum that is bigger but also somehow closer to the ground like a blancmange slowly sliding off a plate. And his love handles, they’re not so lovely any more. And everyone feels a little bit less sexy and a little bit fed up. You have lost your body and somewhere along the way you have lost a little bit of yourself, while gaining a whole load more of yourself if you know what I mean!’ He beamed. The room was very very quiet. Bob did nothing to fill the silence. He just looked off into the middle distance, for ages. Eventually his thoughts came back to the room and he put his hands in a pray position, resting his index fingers on his lips. He looked from face to face before speaking.

‘I’m sorry, guys, I can’t lie to you. You all seem like really nice ladies, you really do. So I have to admit that I don’t know anything at all about weight loss.’ There was a group gasp and the Fat Campers started looking to each other, and to me, to see if he was joking. ‘I don’t know anything at all about diets. Everyone in this room probably knows more about calories and eating plans. You all,’ he said, pointing to the headshots on the wall, ‘you all already have the information you need to be slim. You could probably open your own healthy-eating university and lecture on it. Fat people always know a lot about food.’ He nodded his head, then shrugged his shoulders. ‘You have all the facts and yet you are all so fat.’ He crossed his arms and sat heavily in Chad’s red heart-shaped chair. ‘And yet you are all so fat!’ Bob yelled. This time the group gasp was louder, angry, insulted. Bob bounced excitedly out of the chair and started smiling. ‘And that is why I am here!’ And now he was speaking fast. ‘We don’t need to overthink this. Two plus two doesn’t need to equal four. We don’t need to know the facts. Knowledge doesn’t lead to solution. Do you think the smokers of the world don’t know cigarettes cause cancer? Of course they do!’ he squeaked. ‘But they can’t stop! Do you think the alcoholic thinks drinking is improving his life, making him smarter, sharper, richer? No! But he drinks anyway. People can’t stop. Knowledge doesn’t equal power. The fact that you haven’t lost weight in spite of your knowledge is not your fault. We are all the same. But for those of you in this room, today marks something new. The way we will work is in 30-day blocks. Every 30 days, as in every month, we will try something new. Anyone can commit to one thing for 30 days. I know a man at Google who lives his whole life by the 30-day rule. Every month he promises himself he will do something new. In the month of August he learnt a Spanish word every day. In July he gave up sugar. In December he took one photograph every single day and made them into a photo-book. His life is coloured by new experiences, of growth and development. And he could pack so much in. One month he made himself write 1,500 words every day. Some days he wrote total nonsense, but he did it anyway. At the end of it he had 45,000 words. That’s the length of some novels! So he self-published and now he’s got his own book of nonsense!’ The room giggled. ‘Sounds like fun, hey! It is fun. So we start today, and our 30-day challenge this month is that we will all do one form of physical exercise, together, every single day. One thing, even if it’s just for 15 minutes. The more fun, the better. No questions asked. All we have to do is show up every day, just show up, and we will arrange everything. Everything you need is here.’ He nodded to Federico, who started handing out Peter Parker’s gift packs. ‘And showing up will be a common theme throughout our experience together. If you tell the universe you really want something and every day you show up for it, you turn up, you drag yourself out of bed and you yell, “Universe, I am here! I want this! I need this! But I can’t do this alone, help me!” you will be surprised how often the universe delivers. And what you ladies don’t realise is that you already did just that. The day you wrote to True Love, the day you agreed to join this programme was the day you set an intention, showed up and said, “I want something! I need something! Take notice! Here I am!” And guess what, people? Guess what? We took notice. This is the beginning of your new life. Welcome.’ The room burst into rapturous applause while Federico sat weeping in the corner.

‘I am a Human Fountain,’ he mouthed at me before blowing his nose into an enormous silk hanky then running into the middle of all the over-excited ladies and squeezing them all very very hard.

4TED Talk - TED.COM - website with hundreds of inspirational talks from an assortment of incredible people. TED believe in the power of ideas to change attitudes, lives and, ultimately, the world. Their website offers free knowledge and inspiration from the world’s most inspired thinkers, including Bob.

5Brangelinas - Brad and Angelina, somehow greater together than the sum of their parts. Ridiculously skinny and beautiful in spite of love, and childbirth and crippling work schedules. In short … not the norm.

pepperpots life sanctuary

‘to be a star you must shine your own light, follow your own path, and never worry about the darkness for that is when the stars shine brightest’ (anon)

The floating restaurant at Pepperpots is one of the most bizarre eating establishments I have ever come across. It’s a circular building constructed in the middle of a giant lake accessed by a wooden footbridge that resembles the Millennium Bridge6. The restaurant itself stands one storey high, is completely glass-walled and has two enormous decked terraces on either side. And it was here that I had been instructed to wait for Delaware O’Hunt, the movie starlet from the golden era of the silver screen.

It had taken some time to secure a meeting with the elusive Delaware. She’d cancelled twice, not shown up once then one day, out of the blue, she’d called and invited me to come and meet. We’d agreed upon the afternoon before Pepperpots’ annual fireworks display and I’d arrived early so I could watch Grandma in all her organisational glory. She was coordinating the evening’s sparkly event and I could see her on the shoreline assembling a herd of volunteers who just happened to be a gaggle of handsome axe-wielding men. Grandma had them chopping large bits of wood, dragging around heavy pieces of scaffolding and generally doing anything that might result in them getting hot and sweaty and taking off their shirts. As yet another man removed all but his trousers and boots I noticed out of the corner of my eye the legend that is Delaware O’Hunt step gracefully onto the deck. She walked purposefully, no, she glided across to meet me. She was rumoured to be close to ninety years of age but looked a glamorous and beautiful seventy. She wore dark glasses and a camel-coloured wool coat and as she crossed the deck in the last of the autumnal rays it felt as if the sun’s sole purpose were to illuminate her. Every head turned, in the restaurant, and from lake’s edge, and even Grandma, not a gesticulator at the best of times, waved manically in the distance. Delaware waved back before gracefully seating herself on a chair next to me. I on the other hand sat heavily, as if under the influence of a completely different gravitational pull. I shifted my chair to face her. She stayed exactly where she was. Then she began absent-mindedly stirring warm milk into her coffee.

‘Kate,’ she said to me from behind dark glasses. ‘When your grandmamma explained to me your idea I was unsure how I would be able to contribute.’ She spoke in a slow and considered way, every syllable carefully pronounced, the words trickling like honey wrapped up in the thickest Texan drawl. ‘I am from a different generation from you, darl, so I can speak my truth but I’m not convinced anything I say will resonate with the women of today.’

‘I’m sure—’ I squeaked before clearing my throat and starting again. ‘I’m sure everything you say will be relevant.’ I was practically whispering. ‘So many women are trying to balance a working life with a relationship, with having kids, with maintaining friendships and hobbies.’ I could barely look at her. ‘You were among the first generation of women to do this. You are exactly who we need to speak to. You started the revolution,’ I said, performing a gentle and uncommitted fist shake while looking slightly past her right shoulder.

‘That’s sweet,’ she said, placing my fist-shaking hand back by my side. ‘But it didn’t feel like a revolution, that’s for sure. Back then, when I was working all the time, I felt mostly overwhelmed, sometimes a little scared and almost always unsupported. It was a man’s world and I was a silly little girl who had accidentally ended up with a big career. Certainly to the outside world I had it all. I was acting with some of the greatest actors of the time, with incredible directors, I had to kiss some dashing fellows as part of my day job, most of them gay if the disappointing truth be told, but for the early part of my career I always remember feeling somewhat empty.’

‘Do you think that emptiness was because you hadn’t fallen in love?’ I winced at the sound of my own voice.

‘Well, I was certainly aware of love and the lack of its existence in my life. As my girlfriends paired off, which they all did more quickly than me, I suppose I wondered why love had not come into my life. If perhaps I wasn’t the type of girl who got to fall in love, that perhaps you couldn’t have it all.’

‘Were you actively looking for love?’

‘You mean going on dates?’ She smiled. ‘Darl, I went on so many dates I could write you a handbook! And it’s funny you should ask because I was reading through some of my old diaries and I came across an entry I had written after one such evening.’ She reached into her handbag and brought out an old leather diary. ‘If you don’t mind I would like to read something to you.’ She cleared her throat and began. I felt as if I were watching her in one of her films.

‘June 5th

I went on another date last night with a man who works in Wall Street. He was handsome in a banking sort of a way and very interested in the play I start next week. But I knew, within 30 seconds, that he wasn’t for me. How could I know such a thing so quickly? I should know better than to judge any book by its cover. I am supposed to be a curious individual, an artist absorbing and embracing every single experience. But because I had decided he wasn’t The One I couldn’t enjoy the rest of the evening. This man never said, “Delaware, come to dinner. I am the man of your dreams.” Yet on some level that was my expectation of him, or at least my hope, a hope so hidden that for the most part I don’t even know it’s there.

How is it possible to miss something you have never had? How can I ever really embrace any moment if I am always subconsciously searching for a thing called love? And what is this overwhelming human desire to define oneself by being in a pair?’

‘But you did fall in love!’ I squeaked. ‘You married Richard!’

‘I married Richard.’ She nodded before looking off into middle distance. ‘I knew the minute he walked in the room that he was the one for me. We met at an after-show party for a play I’d been starring in on Broadway. At the time he was still a young director but with big ideas and absolutely no sense of life’s boundaries that constrain the rest of us. He was intoxicating to be around. I had feelings in my body that I was completely at the mercy of, feelings I knew were never going to go away. Thank God he felt the same way. I had a girlfriend who fell so in love with a Swiss man and he resolutely didn’t feel the same way about her. What an awful predicament for a woman to find herself in. Your One True Love doesn’t want to be your One True Love.’

I loved the way predicament sounded in her Texan drawl, each syllable exquisitely over-pronounced: pre-dic-a-ment.

‘So when Richard arrived, when love showed up, how did it affect your life?’

‘Well, Richard and I began working together almost immediately.’ She nodded. ‘To share one’s passion with the man you are also passionate about was a dream come true. He was creatively brilliant and is responsible for some of the greatest performances of my life. He transformed my life on every single level.’

‘So falling in love was a positive experience for you?’ I knew it. Chad was going to throw me head first from the roof.

‘I believe in balance in life, for every high there is an equal low, and so it was with Richard. My career sky-rocketed, thanks in large part to him, but when dream acting jobs came along I didn’t want to take anything that would cause us to be apart for long periods of time. I certainly couldn’t take roles where he’d been turned down as Director or where I would be working with a director he felt was a competitor of his. So my career, and love life, started to become like a game of chess. For each opportunity I had to predict the next five moves. What would this role lead to? Where would I end up living? How would Richard get to see me? Would me taking the role undermine his confidence as a director? Ultimately the more I moulded and shaped my decisions to stabilise my relationship, the more unstable it became. In hindsight if I had just been consistent, consistently choosing the right roles for the right reasons, Richard would have always known what to expect from me. And I think consistency is underrated in relationships. Your partner being able to predict you, be certain of your choices, of who you are, it has a stabilising effect on a relationship. When you become a smaller version of yourself in order to keep your relationship on track, all that happens is that your partner no longer recognises you. You are not the woman he fell in love with, he starts to lose respect for you, and you lose respect for yourself, the small compromised version of the woman you used to be, and then one comes to resent the other. And so it was with Richard. Love was the greatest joy in my life, and my greatest pain. The breakdown of my marriage nearly killed me. The pain of it ending, the separation from him, the shattered hopes and dreams, it was all too much. I am sure you are aware of the four-year break in my acting career following the end of my marriage. My world collapsed. I don’t know why we couldn’t be together as a couple. It is one of the greatest mysteries and the greatest sadness in my life. And I know that we will love each other until the day we die. He is me. I am him. But together we are somehow too much and at the same time too little.’ She took a sip of coffee. Her words resonated with such depth it was as if she were playing a string instrument in my chest. I struggled to find my voice.

‘Delaware, what would you do if you were me and found yourself unexpectedly alone and 30 years old? I mean, if someone had told you on your 30th birthday that you would be alone for the rest of your life, what things would you have chosen to do differently? What advice do you have for me?’

‘If I were you and free from love?’ She gazed out across the lake. I did the same and noticed a somewhat familiar-looking torso on the shore chopping wood. The half-naked man turned around and stared back. ‘Well, I would have made some different creative choices, that is for certain. There are several film roles, films you would have heard of, that I would have taken. And none of my partners ever wanted children, not one of them, which is a strange thing in itself. So I suppose I would have had a child if I had only myself to please and not a man’s feelings and needs to take into consideration.’ She pulled her coat closer around her. The familiar half-naked torso was now running along the edge of the lake towards the footbridge to the restaurant. ‘You know, darl, I don’t like to list negatives, to think about what-ifs. I think if I had just gotten into the habit of making good choices for myself I would not have missed out on anything at all, whether there had been love in my life or not. Because when you start making choices with someone else in mind, second-guessing them and their wants and needs, it’s like a game of Chinese whispers that over the years slowly unravels into a story you don’t even recognise. And you will probably end up losing the one thing you were trying to keep hold of. So be true to yourself. Then everyone else can rely upon that fact.’ She paused for a moment before smiling to herself. ‘And I wouldn’t waste a second of my life worrying about what I look like, that should be forbidden until you are at least in your 70s and even then I think women look goddamn beautiful! I’m sorry, doll, if I’ve disappointed you. I expect women today want me to tell them to have lots of sex, run along the Great Wall of China and throw themselves out of a plane. But my only true regrets in life are when I let myself down, when I abandoned myself; nothing good ever came from those choices. So get good at being good to yourself. That is what love stole from me. That is what I took back after love had gone and that is what I would want you to do now.’

advice | get good at being good to yourself

Delaware was perfect. The interview was perfect. I clicked off my Dictaphone and took a sip from my now freezing cup of coffee. The half-naked torso appeared at the door to the terrace and marched across to our table, sitting himself down in the chair next to mine. His upper body was horribly lean and muscular in an incredibly clichéd ‘I’m so gorgeous and toned’ kind of way. And there were bits of woodchip and dirt stuck to his sweaty naked skin.

‘So?’ He pulled his chair closer to mine. ‘Did Fat Camp receive the training bags? Have they read all the literature? Did they have their appointment at the running clinic? And the bra-fitting shop? Because they need to be well supported before they start running, emotionally, but also in the breast region. It’s important.’ Peter Parker was here, naked, and talking about tits in front of Delaware O’Hunt. Brilliant.

‘Peter, what are you doing here?’

‘Your grandma said she needed help setting up the firework display so I offered. Are you helping?’ I looked down at my incredibly smart dress, unsure what part of my outfit screamed Firework Preparation and Installation Expert. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry,’ Peter said, leaning across me, leaving a trail of woodchips on my dress. ‘How rude of me, Delaware—how are you?’ he asked, kissing her firmly on each cheek with his big sweaty man face. ‘How is the fusion dance coming along? I still can’t perfect those moves you showed me.’

‘You don’t smile but you do fusion dance?’ I guffawed. That, as far as I was concerned, was ironic.

‘I told you, darl, it’s in those hips. You just have to practise. He’s a wonderful dance partner, Kate. You should get him to take you.’

‘Oh, Kate doesn’t dance,’ Peter said, brushing the woodchips from my dress as he sat himself back down. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said as he picked off the last woodchip, which was located very close to my well-supported although disappointingly small right boob. ‘No, Kate’s practically allergic to dancing. It’s an affliction.’

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