My slimming group made me balloon to a size 24 and ruined my life. Then I quit and discovered secret that’s making so many women fat – and I lost 6.5st in a year

Stepping on the scales, I flushed with shame.

Weighing 19st 7lb, and a size 24, I was the biggest I’d ever been in my life. I knew I couldn’t go on like this. I had to get some control back over my diet and body.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that mortifying moment marked the beginning of my weight loss journey.

The shocking truth is, however, that by that point, in 2019, I’d been a member of a slimming club for two years.

I’d joined the well-known group in 2017, with the goal of being able to fit into a pair of size 14 jeans that had been at the back of my wardrobe for longer than I cared to remember.

Yet not only did I end up actually gaining over two stones, I also developed a serious eating disorder – the result, I believe, of the rules and restrictions surrounding food I’d been told to follow.

The slimming group diet plan – categorising foods into ‘unlimited’ groups and allocating ‘points’ to others – may work for some people. But with a daily limit to stay within, my unhealthy habits turned into a dangerous cycle of bingeing, self-loathing and restricting that left me fatter and more miserable than I’d ever been in my life.

Growing up, I was on the chubby side, but it was in my 20s, when I worked in hospitality, that the weight piled on.

By 2017, when I was managing a pub and living on fizzy drinks and ready meals, I weighed 17st, and at 5ft 8in I was categorised as obese.

An unflattering photo of me, posted on social media by a friend, was the wake-up call I needed. So, one evening in July 2017, I queued up at a local community hall in Lincolnshire, with a group of like-minded strangers, for my first slimming club weigh-in.

As my weight was duly logged in my record book, I felt embarrassed but determined, positive I was doing the right thing and giving myself over to the club’s ‘plan’.

They knew best, after all.

At first, I was losing several pounds a week, as I cut out the sugary drinks, processed food and snacks I’d usually graze on throughout the day.

Everyone at the group was so encouraging, there was a sense of camaraderie, and I got a buzz from the praise when I registered a loss in my first week. Within three months I’d lost a stone and felt thrilled.

As anyone who’s ever been on a diet will know though, once the novelty of that buzz wears off, old issues find a way of wheedling their way in.

For me, I’d always struggled with feeling hungry; I’d become used to big portions and quelling the slightest pang of hunger with food.

Desperate not to fall off the slimming club wagon though, when a hunger pang struck I turned to the unlimited foods on the plan in order to feel full in what I believed was a healthy way: plain pasta, vegetables and lean roast chicken were all on my ‘unlimited’ list.

That meant I could eat as much of them as I wanted, right?

I saw absolutely nothing wrong, therefore, in sitting outside the supermarket in my car, ripping the packaging off a rotisserie chicken and cramming hunks of meat into my mouth, like a wild animal after a kill.

I saw no red flags, either, when I got home and cooked an enormous bowl of pasta, and served it with a jacket potato, which left me feeling so stuffed, I couldn’t move.

I didn’t feel disgusted by this gluttony, I felt proud.

I was, as far as I was concerned, sticking to the plan. I knew nothing about nutrition; I had no idea an entire rotisserie chicken can contain around 1,400 calories. All I knew was it was ‘unlimited’.

I know now that there’s no such thing as ‘healthy’ and ‘unhealthy’ food, and nothing should be ‘restricted’ and ‘unlimited’ – it’s our attitude to foods and how we eat them that matters. What needed fixing was not my diet, but my mindset.

I can see that I was rapidly falling into the grip of a condition called Binge Eating Disorder, which is believed to affect around 1.3 million people in the UK. It’s characterised by frequent and recurring binges where the sufferer loses control of the volume and type of food they eat while triggering emotions like guilt, shame and disgust.

While at the start I’d felt like I was just sticking to the plan, over time that guilt and self-loathing kicked in whenever I’d indulge in a binge.

And that wasn’t the only way my weekly slimming class was skewering my relationship with food.

If I lost weight – which I did in the early months – I began to celebrate with a ‘cheat meal’ the night of my weigh-in. It started with a Chinese takeaway, then the next time I’d add a large bar of chocolate, then crisps and dips, eating solidly for several hours.

It felt normal because other women at the club did it too, we’d all leave the meeting talking about what ‘bad foods’ we were going to have, before getting back on the wagon the next day.

Were the group’s organisers aware of this? I still don’t know. It all felt so lighthearted, just girls together being a bit ‘naughty’.

On the day of my meeting, nothing would pass my lips – not even water – to ensure I registered a loss on the scales.

Quickly, a nefarious cycle of bingeing and restricting was established.

Psychologically, I found myself increasingly hooked on the high I’d feel when bingeing – like the night I ate 12 share bags of Aero chocolates and a family sized tiramisu, plus a multipack of crisps – or from eating so much ‘unlimited’ rice and fruit I felt nauseous.

I’d never eaten in that way before, even when my diet was at its worst.

For three months, it worked: I continued to steadily lose weight. However, as the months passed, my addiction to binges grew and they became more frequent, and my weight started to creep up.

By early 2018, I was back up to 16.5 stone, leaving me too embarrassed to attend meetings. I remained a member, however, and resolved to follow the plan remotely.

Without even the accountability of a weigh in, things worsened. By early 2019, I was 19.5 stone and miserable. Something had gone badly wrong, and I knew I needed to step away from my slimming group before I gained even more weight.

I began educating myself about nutrition and used a weight loss hypnosis programme which was recommended to me by a relative.

During my research, I came across some information about Binge Eating Disorder and it was like a lightbulb going on in my mind.

The more I read, the more I recognised myself, and was able to make the connection between my weight gain, my disordered eating and the ‘rules’ of the slimming club.

I’d never heard of Binge Eating Disorder; I always thought of people with eating disorders as skinny and never eating.

Of course, I had to take some personal responsibility, but I felt strongly the rules I’d been following had set me on a path to making terrible choices about my diet.

Within a year my weight had dropped to 13 stone, through old fashioned healthy eating and exercise. I did, and continue to do some form of physical activity every day ranging from swimming and walking to following fitness workouts on You Tube.

I avoided ever feeling starving or stuffed, aiming to always be in the middle of the two feelings, to avoid triggering a return to that terrible cycle I’d been trapped in.

I met my partner in December 2019 and in August 2022 our daughter was born.

During pregnancy and then post-partum, my weight went back up to 16st, but I knew I had the knowledge now to lose it sensibly and by the time my daughter was 18 months old I was back to 13 stone.

I’ve continued losing weight and am currently 12st 2lb and a size 12, down from a 24 at my biggest.

Those size 14 jeans are now too big.

It’s a daily decision not to listen to the Binge Eating Disorder voice in my head telling me to stuff my face in my car when I do a weekly shop. Sadly, I believe I’ll have to live with that voice for the rest of my life.

I know, however, that no matter how loudly it speaks, I’ll never join a slimming club again.

as told to Eimear O’Hagan