For years, I endured hurtful comments from my husband about my plump figure. Food became my refuge, a way to cope with the growing distance in our troubled marriage.
But one day, his cruel jokes crossed a line—he compared me to a slim, beautiful woman in front of everyone. That moment was a turning point. I decided it was time to take control of my life.
The struggles with my weight had been ongoing for years. No matter what I tried, the extra pounds clung to me like a second skin.
My dream of becoming a skilled pastry chef remained, but it came with a price. The kitchen, my sanctuary, was also where I indulged, tasting every creation, and with each bite, the weight piled on.
