04/15/2026
When your GP looks you dead in the eye and tells you that you’re practically destroying yourself, you never forget it."
Twelve weeks later, we are 7 stone lighter combined — and to be brutally honest, I’m still absolutely furious.
I’m Amanda, I'm 65. My husband Colin is 69.
When I look at the old photo of us from last year, I feel physically sick. Not because of how we looked, but because I remember how completely exhausted we were.
It happened at our grandson’s birthday party.
Just sitting on a low chair felt like torture. My stomach was so tight and hard, like something was pushing from the inside. I remember having to hide in the loo just to unbutton my trousers because I genuinely couldn't catch my breath.
Colin just sat in a corner all day.
He was out of breath just walking from the car to the house. Seeing him struggle to get off the sofa, clinging to the edge of the table... it terrified me more than I ever admitted.
And me? Menopause had turned my body into a prison.
Constant bloating, legs that felt like lead weights, swollen ankles, and an aching hip that throbbed in time with my heartbeat. I could sleep for ten hours and still wake up feeling completely drained.
We kept comforting ourselves by saying: "It’s just our age."
Until that appointment.
After studying our test results, the doctor looked up and delivered the brutal truth:
"Your systems are under constant, toxic pressure. If you don't turn this around now, there is no coming back."
I wanted to scream.
How on earth are you supposed to "exercise more" when you’re exhausted just putting your shoes on?
How do you lose weight when every step hurts?
We did everything right. We ate sparrow-sized portions, counted every single calorie, and dropped everything we enjoyed. Nothing happened. The scales didn't budge an inch.
But then, in November, we bumped into an old colleague of Colin's.
We barely recognised him. Not just because he was slimmer, but because he was absolutely glowing with energy. He moved effortlessly. Normally.
I just had to ask what his secret was.
He didn't give us a complicated diet. He just sent me a link to an article.
I was incredibly sceptical.
But the fear of being glued to an armchair for the rest of my life was stronger.
So we started. Together.
After 2 weeks: The pressure in my stomach vanished. Colin woke up without having to check where it hurt.
After 6 weeks: I was nearly 2 stone lighter, he'd lost two and a half.
Today: I have lost 3 stone, Colin has lost 4 stone. 7 stone gone in total.
At our last check-up, the GP looked shaken:
"Whatever you're doing, do not stop."
The photo on the right is from last week.
And the reason I’m angry?
Because none of the experts ever told us why we were stuck. That it was about internal blockages, not just calories.
