Jayne Dowle: It's no fun being fat, so do something about it

Fighting back my tears, I gently asked him why he had said that. He had recently started school, and the children in his class had been describing their mummies to each other. If this was the way that my own son saw me, then it was definitely time to face facts – I was fat.

That simple three-letter word kick-started me into dieting. It wasn't that I was scoffing rubbish, I just enjoyed big portions and ate

biscuits for pleasure – and to stave off the morning sickness I suffered having Jack's little sister. I had put on at least three stones when I was pregnant, and was a whopping 17 stone when I gave birth to her. But she was more than a year old now, and I could no

longer use pregnancy as an excuse.

Three years later, I weigh about 12 and a half stones. My Body Mass Index (BMI) is still teetering slightly above the desired optimum of 25. But I'm happy with my health, can squeeze into a size 12 for the first time in decades and I don't cringe or make excuses – the camera makes you look bigger? Not that big – when I see photographs of myself.

So if you have ever read my opinions on healthy eating and sometimes think I am holier-than-thou, you might now understand the journey that I have been on.

If a person really wants to lose weight and puts their mind to it, they usually can. So this is why I agree with Anne Milton, the Minister for Public Health. She argues that calling fat people "fat" instead of couching it with the obese word could be the only way to get them to do it.

If your doctor describes you as "obese" you take a kind of comfort in the fact that you have a medical condition. You regard it as something that has happened to you, rather than something you have caused. This, as Ms Milton argues, means you abdicate personal responsibility for your "illness". And somehow, because it has become medicalised, it doesn't translate into the bulging waist that won't fit into your favourite skirt. I never actually got into a discussion with my GP about my weight, but I'm sure that she would have been too polite to actually call me fat.

I know that many health professionals believe that saying "fat" can damage a patient's self-esteem. But with one in four British adults now classed as obese, we need action. All those millions of pounds spent on government campaigns exhorting us to eat healthier don't appear to have made much difference.

And then, of course, there are the millions which the over-stretched NHS has to spend on treating the serious medical conditions caused by over-eating. If the only way to get through to people is to be upfront, then so be it. I realise that this sounds harsh, but any anguish they suffer will be as nothing compared to pain of the heart attack they might end up with. Or the pain of the loved ones they leave behind when they suffer a premature death.

These same health professionals also say that there is a lot of stigma attached to being called a "fat" person. Well, I don't buy this as a defence. Anyone who is obese, or indeed just plain overweight, already knows plenty about stigma. Chubby children and teenagers are teased and bullied.

Overweight adults can't run around with their children, have to squeeze into train and aeroplane seats, and hate catching themselves in the mirror. And that's not to mention the casual comments that cut to the bone. "You dress well, considering you're such a big lass," was one remark, kindly meant by an elderly woman, that I will never forget.

All those "fat" clothes have gone to the charity shop now. And the satisfaction I felt as I dropped dress size after dress size spurred me on.

But although I was frustrated at not being able to go into any old high street shop and buy something to fit, I could always find nice things in a size 18/20 if I looked. Marks & Spencer has even launched a range of outsize school uniforms. And although I knew that some people would judge me on my size, there were plenty of other women as big, and certainly bigger than me, and I reassured myself with that.

I've recently come back from a week at the seaside and was shocked to see how many seriously overweight mothers and daughters were waddling around together, flesh spilling over the tops of their huge jeans.

The truth is, obesity is becoming accepted as the norm. That is why it is proving so difficult to crack. The only way to change things is to stop excusing it. And this starts with the f-word. Fat is fat. So if

you are, get over the shame, hide the biscuit tin and do something

about it.