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DANGEROUSLY LARGE
I was so big, I thought I’d suffocate my own son Becky Hill, 32, Bromyard
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WORDS: MISHAAL KHAN, EMMA ROBERTSON
alking into the playground, a dozen sets of eyes dart from my face
to my chest. ‘ET!’ a couple of the lads yelled at me. They weren’t referring to the little alien on a bicycle. For me, ET stood for something else. Enormous tits. Not kind. But, to be fair, they weren’t wrong. I’d started developing early – and by 15, I was wearing a 36DD bra. I was a size 16, too. Bigger and bustier than all the girls in my class. Always piled my plate high, had seconds. Having massive breasts meant buying unflattering clothes. A neckline too low made it look like I was trying to get attention. Really, it was the opposite – I was fed up with the stares! Though I knew losing weight could help, years passed and I could never find the motivation. When my twins Isla and Chloe were born in March 2011, I was a size 18-20. And, busy with my
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I’d always been bigger – and bustier
babies, food became about convenience. Pre-packed sandwiches and crisps for lunch. Cheesy pasta or ready meals for dinner. After the girls, my boobs grew even more, to a 42G. ‘Sorry, we don’t stock G-cups,’ the sales assistants told me sympathetically time and again. Seeing my smaller-busted friends in strappy tops, I burned with envy. Desperate to hide away, I layered up in jumpers and baggy trousers, and even started to cover my arms with tattoos. In May 2016, determined to lose my pregnancy weight, I cut out carbs, tried
Holding my baby boy was hard
meal-replacement shakes. But I was hungry and miserable, and soon was back to binging. On Christmas Day 2016, my greatest gift was an unwrapped one. A positive pregnancy test! I was elated, but my plans to lose weight before my 30th the following summer went out the window. A few months into my pregnancy, it wasn’t just the baby making me bulge. My eating was out of control. I was soon a size 22-24. Because of my weight, I was regularly monitored. And by the end of my third trimester, I was using crutches to get around. ‘We’re worried about your health, and your baby’s,’ the doctor said. ‘If it’s best for us both, I’ll have him early,’ I said, feeling guilty. At 38 weeks, Rupert was
born by caesarean, weighing 8lb 4oz. As I held him, I struggled to breastfeed. Compared with my huge boobs, his head looked tiny. Holding him close, he almost disappeared into my folds. I’ll suffocate him, I panicked. The nurse could see that I was struggling. ‘Try holding him as if he was a rugby ball. Women with a larger frame find it easier,’ she said. As she walked away, I burst into tears. No one had ever been so blunt with me. Taking Rupert home, we settled into family life. Rupert’s dad, Paul, 40, was great, but there was one thing he couldn’t help with – breastfeeding. Despite trying every position and angle, I couldn’t get Rupert comfortable when feeding. My boobs and belly just got in Not these days! the way. With sisters And after six Chloe and Isla days, I gave up. ‘I’ll have to bottle-feed him,’ I sighed. I knew that it would’ve been easier if I was smaller. So, in October 2017, I tried to lose weight again. And after failing
Compared with my boobs, my baby’s head looked tiny
