Jenni Murray - Fat Cow, Fat Chance

A History of the World in 21 Women

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Is It Me, Or Is It Hot In Here?

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First published in Great Britain in 2020 by Doubleday
an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Copyright Jenni Murray 2020
Cover design and illustration by Emily Courdelle

Extracts on by Emma Burnell The Independent

Jenni Murray has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologize for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 9781473559097

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the authors and publishers rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

This book is dedicated to Professor Francesco Rubino, who changed my life.

I cant begin to tell you how many times Ive been walking down the street, minding my own business, pottering along on my bike or simply sitting in a queue of traffic at the wheel of my Mini when, apropos of absolutely nothing, Ive heard fat cow, fat bitch, sometimes fat c*** (sorry, cant bring myself to actually write that one) or, Eh, love, who ate all the pies?

Every time it happened I would try to convince myself I didnt care.

Yes, for much of my adult life I was substantially overweight, obese even, and had done every diet known to man or woman with no lasting success. Id done my very best to persuade myself that it was possible to be fat and happy, and that the people who loved me wouldnt cease to care just because the middle-age spread had got somewhat out of control.

By the time I was sixty-four years old my weight had become quite crippling. I told myself my obesity had played no role in the breast cancer Id been diagnosed with in 2006 (almost certainly wrong) and that my need for a bilateral hip replacement had nothing to do with the strain Id been putting on my joints. I put all the blame for the damage done to my bones on the chemotherapy I had after the cancer surgery.

For so long I had wanted to join the ever-increasing groups of women Dawn French, Jo Brand, Beth Ditto, Rebel Wilson and, most recently, Sofie Hagen, the author of Happy Fat who argued it was possible to be fat and fit, and were furious at the fat shaming that is so widespread. Hagen claims to have become completely at ease with taking up space in a world that wants to shrink you.

The excuses I made to myself were legion. I was, I kept on telling myself, fat and happy and I didnt care about the insults. The fat part was blatantly obvious. The happy was an Oscar-winning performance put on in public, but in private I lived with a growing sense of fear and misery that this incredible hulk was my lot for evermore and would probably kill me long before I reached my three score years and ten. I did care, but for so long I tried to put all the worries to the back of my mind.

I tended to avoid the scales and merrily ordered clothes online from the Sixteen47 website owned by Dawn French and Helen Teague, which boasts the biggest range of plus sizes in the UK. I wore only their baggiest tops in the most voluminous size along with a pair of stretchy leggings always a slimming black in colour. I joked Id managed to create a uniform for myself that made life so much easier in the morning.

It was just like school days, I told myself. I didnt have to think about what I was going to wear. My mind could be occupied with more important thoughts than the frivolity of fashion. I simply needed to make sure there were plenty of the same type of items in the wardrobe so all I had to do was pick out a clean outfit. Ordering online meant never having to go into a shop and face the disapproving glances of a sales assistant who doubted she would have anything in my size, and never having to endure the humiliation of a communal changing room.

So, I simply used the uniform to hide away all the abundant flesh and, at the same time, tried hard to become immune to what I was feeling about the constant insults. Some days I would let the anger bubble to the surface and shout back some foul obscenity. Witty remarks never seemed to come to me at those horrible moments. Mostly, I wanted only to curl up and die. Go home and eat something comforting. And that, of course, was no solution to the problem.

Two things shocked me into taking myself in hand. My old GP, who was also significantly overweight, retired. I guess Id always used her as an excuse. If my doctor was fat, what did I have to worry about? She never made me step on the scales and I dont recall her ever suggesting weight loss might be a good idea. I should, perhaps, point out that, like me, she also had breast cancer in her case twice.

My new GP is a man. Hes quite elderly and never pulls his punches. He suggested I step on the scales at our first appointment. The scales groaned and so did I when I saw the reason why. Twenty-four stone! How on earth had I allowed that to happen? My doctors question was what did I propose to do about it?

The second shock came when my son Charlie accompanied me and my three little dogs on a walk in the local park. My walks tended to be slow, painful and rather lumbering, with frequent pauses at benches. We were having a little sit-down when an enormous woman passed us, driving a mobility scooter. Her two dogs trotted along beside her, their leads attached to the handlebar. Blimey, Mum, said Charlie, his voice full of concern, if you arent careful, thatll be you before long.

It was the prompt I needed to do something about it. This book tells the story of how I took that fat chance, lost 8 stone in less than a year and how my weight has now stabilized as Ive developed a healthy relationship with food without losing the pleasure I take in eating it. It also asks why obesity is the health crisis it has become and explains how the food and diet industries have done us anything but good. I hope the second part of the books title indicates a new interpretation of the expression fat chance no longer a negative, but a positive opportunity to get well again at a healthy weight.