I was a size 12 and insecure after years of yo-yo dieting – now I’m big, bald and I’ve never felt happier
THROUGHOUT her years of yo-yo dieting and not feeling good enough Lizi Jackson-Barrett, 45, from Romford, Essex, felt her confidence depended on her size and hair.
Now living with alopecia, she tells Eimear O’Hagan….
Getting dressed for work, I glance at the framed wedding photo on my bedside table.
In my size 12 gown and with dark, glossy curls tumbling over my shoulders, I barely recognise myself.
My slender waist has been replaced with a plus-size tummy, my slim arms and legs are now wobbly.
Even my long hair is a distant memory, as alopecia left me bald.
You’d be forgiven for thinking that photo — and the memories it evokes — makes me sad.
But you’d be wrong.
It actually makes me smile with gratitude, as I’ve never felt happier or sexier in my own skin.
It’s even led me to a new career.
Earlier this week it was revealed that Brits are among the least body confident in the world.
A study, across 57,000 people in 65 nations revealed that we struggle to look at ourselves in the mirror.
That used to be me.
I first became overweight as a teenager.
My mum cooked healthy meals at home and was a slim size, but I couldn’t resist second helpings of pudding in the school canteen, or trips to the shop for chocolate.
I did no sport or exercise, so by the time I was 17 in 1995, I was a size 16.
That’s when I joined Slimming World, marking the start of years of yo-yo dieting.
Constant chatter
Back then, I thought “slim” was the only body type to aspire to.
Magazines were full of skinny celebrities and although my mum never commented on my weight, the fact she was slim influenced me too.
From my teens until my thirties, I truly believed that a thinner body would make me more popular as a friend and more desirable to men.
Over the years I tried every diet under the sun, from Atkins to Weight Watchers, but never lost more than a few pounds.
I would always give up, returning to my guilty pleasures of chips and chocolate to cheer myself up.
By my 30th birthday in 2007, I was a size 20 and had stopped weighing myself.
Inside, I felt self-conscious, but I created an outgoing, cheery persona to detract attention from my body.
I was the life and soul of the party, that self-deprecating “jolly” fat friend.
I put up with emotionally abusive treatment from men, grateful that anyone wanted to date me.
One guy told me: “You’d be so pretty if you lost some weight.”
Another sniggered when his friends shouted “tree” in my direction because my legs were like tree trunks.
In 2009, I gave birth to my twins, Jacob and Layla, now 14, but after that relationship ended in 2014 I met my current husband online.
He didn’t care about my size and loved me as I was.
But I was determined I wasn’t going to be a fat bride.
In the summer of 2016, I began the Cambridge Diet, living on soups and shakes, and by May 2017 I’d dropped from 16st to 11st, going from a size 22 down to a 12.
Every pound I lost felt like a victory, a step towards not only being thin, but finally being good enough.
I loved the attention my weight loss brought, too.
Comments like, “You’ve lost so much weight, you look amazing!” were music to my ears. I’d never been praised for my appearance before and it felt so good.
In June 2017, I walked up the aisle in a size 12 dress and felt so proud.
Settling into married life, I had no intention of letting my new figure go when I’d worked so hard to achieve it, and swapped the Cambridge Diet for healthy eating to maintain it.
I still liked being slim, but I began to grow tired of the constant chatter about my body.
Even though I was a mum, a successful businesswoman and a wife, all anyone talked about was my weight loss and new body.
I felt under constant pressure to look my best and began to miss the days when I’d do the school run bare-faced, in an old T-shirt and leggings.
Then came the negativity about my body.
“You’re not going to lose any more weight are you?” I’d be asked.
“You don’t want to go too far.”
I was confused by the mixed messages — one day I looked “amazing” the next I was “too slim”. Which was it?
I’d spent years worrying what other people thought of me when I was bigger, but I realised nothing had really changed.
The feelings of insecurity that had plagued me at my biggest began to haunt me again.
I could never have predicted what was to happen next, though.
Four months after my wedding, in October 2017, I discovered an egg-sized bald patch above my right ear.
I knew instinctively it was alopecia, as the same thing had happened to my dad. I must have inherited it.
A dermatologist confirmed what I already knew and, devastated, I hit rock bottom.
Within two months, by Christmas 2017, despite taking high-strength steroids, I was bald.
I couldn’t stop crying. I felt like I’d taken one step forward in trying to look “beautiful” by losing weight, and now it was two steps backwards.
My healthy diet went out the window. I thought, “What’s the point?”
I could never feel good about myself now I was bald.
Comfort eating coupled with the steroids saw my weight creep back up and by April 2018, I was back in my old size 22 clothes.
Was I devastated?
Honestly, I wasn’t.
Rather, I felt a sense of relief because everyone stopped focusing on my body.
I was big again and to my surprise, I was OK with that.
I was happy my body was no longer the centre of attention, even if I was dealing with other emotions about my hair loss.
It took time to come to terms with my alopecia.
At first, I wore a wig when I left the house because I felt so embarrassed by my appearance.
But by summer in 2018, I hated how hot and uncomfortable it was.
One day I was invited to a friend’s house and dreaded how sticky and itchy my scalp was going to feel.
A thought popped into my head: “Ditch the wig.”
I felt scared, but decided to go for it.
This was a safe opportunity to be brave.
That evening was a major turning point.
My friends were so supportive and I went to bed that night believing perhaps I didn’t need to hide under a wig for the rest of my life.
A year after finding that first bald patch, my wig was consigned to a box on top of the wardrobe.
While adjusting to baldness, I’d also had time to get used to being plus size again.
I realised I didn’t just want to “accept” being bigger, I wanted to embrace it and feel beautiful.
Positive role model
With my wobbly body and bald head, I was so far from what society considers attractive I just stopped caring.
If I felt good about myself, that was enough.
My weight was never going to dictate my self-worth ever again.
Five years on, I look in the mirror and I don’t miss my old, slim body or my long hair.
Confidence shines out of me — confidence that isn’t dependent on a dress size or a hairstyle.
Now, people compliment me on that, not what I look like.
My husband has loved me at every size from 12 to 22, with and without hair, and that has never wavered, for which I feel very lucky.
My children are both a healthy weight and I’m proud they see me as a positive role model, and that I’m showing them you can feel confident about yourself no matter how you look.
I now work as a confidence coach, which involves public speaking and meeting clients who take one look at me and realise I know what I’m talking about when it comes to being confident.
It took me most of my adult life to realise that being thin isn’t necessarily the body image holy grail my generation of women were sold.
For me, it brought negative emotions, criticism and intrusion which I never expected and never want to experience again.
I’m Lizi. I’m plus size, bald and finally I feel good enough just as I am.