I felt too FAT to have sex: As actress Kirstie Alley says her libido shrunk when she put on weight, a once-plump woman admits how she felt the same

Five years ago, I weighed nearly 15 stone. I was in my late 30s and severely depressed about my weight. I kept on saying I wasn't, but I was lying. Every mirror I walked past told me something I didn't want to admit: I was fat.

My face was like a bouncy ball. My breasts were almost impossible to contain. My capacious bottom strained every skirt or pair of jeans I possessed. My thighs wobbled like jellies. I looked disgusting.

And above all, my libido withered in inverse proportion to my girth.

How I sympathise with Kirstie Alley, who said last week — after losing seven stone — she couldn't bear to have sex when she was fat. A shocking admission? Not in my experience. Call me a sizeist snob if you must, but I don't think anyone who feels fat can truly enjoy having sex.

It's so awful looking down at the rolls of flesh wobbling around on your stomach (and elsewhere). I remember lying in my bed, trying to kid myself that maybe I looked Rubenesque, while trying to respond with a scintilla of enthusiasm to my husband's advances.

I didn't look sexy and voluptuous. I looked like a beached whale. My breasts were huge and white. My stomach (after four children) had no muscles or tone at all. My white pillowy thighs were dimpled and ugly.

How had I — a formerly thin person — turned in to such a lardy cake? How had I abused my body so much that, not only did I not like the way I looked, but I had made myself so feeble and weak? For this is what happens when you get severely overweight. Your body starts being unable to cope so you become increasingly less physically active.

Having sex, of course, could help that — a bit of rolling around possibly burning up a few of those un-needed calories. But do you feel like having sex when you're a human beach ball? Of course you don't! The thought of it made me shiver with nerves. For the truth about being that big is that it's not remotely sexy, no matter what Dawn French or the ‘fat can be fabulous' brigade tell you.

Yes, I do realise there are some men out there who love a larger lady (we've all seen documentaries about them). But they are a minority. And besides, this isn't about what turns a man on. It's about what turns you on. The minute I caught sight of myself in that mirror, any ounce of sexual confidence I ever had went out of my bedroom window.

How had it come to this? For years I had been in denial. Essentially, I avoided seeing myself naked. If I went in to shops to try on clothes I'd do some sort of extreme contortionist's dance in the changing room so that I didn't have to see the spare rolls of flesh protruding above my bra strap.

The reality of my size was only brought home to me when one day, while in the bath and pretending I wasn't causing a tsunami every time I got in, my middle son said, ‘mummy, why have you got boobs on your back?'

It made me ache for the confidence I had BC — Before Childrearing.
Before I had my first child 15 years ago, I could eat anything I wanted. I was a regular size 12 and it didn't seem to matter what I scoffed as my shape never changed.

I looked and felt sexy, and when I'd meet a man, it never occurred to me it might be embarrassing to take my clothes off. I always liked what I saw in the mirror.

Then I had four children and, in all honesty, I let myself go. I couldn't see the point in losing weight in between pregnancies when I knew I was about to put it all back on again. What I hadn't realised — until it was too late — is quite how fat I had become. And when I did, it was my libido that paid the price.

I couldn't imagine anyone would want to have sex with me because I didn't feel remotely sexy myself.

I still wanted to look fabulous. I still wanted to wiggle around in a suspender belt and bra under a superslim, fitted dress. Instead, I was wobbling about in a pair of oversized granny knickers.

And while I was very fortunate that my husband didn't seem to mind my bloated body (or, if he did, he didn't let on), I did mind it. I minded very much. I didn't want him to desire me, because I didn't feel worthy of desire.
The result? Instead of wanting to have sex with this kind and gentle man, I rejected him.

I did try to look sexy sometimes. I'd go into M&S to get underwear and stare at all the little pretty bras with their rosebud bows and the racier lines with balcony bras and lacy G-strings. How I desperately I wanted to be able to put on those suspender belts and flashy bras and look at myself in the mirror and see something seductive looking back.

I'd sometimes even dare to try the bras and knickers on. They would never fit. The knickers would barely go past my thighs. My breasts would spill out of the bras in a hideously unattractive fashion.
I hated myself.

Then, as I knew they had to, things changed. Once I hit nearly 15 stone, I went to Weight Watchers. I was absolutely determined to lose weight and I did.

Within a year, I'd got down to 11 and a half stone. That felt amazing, it really truly did. My breasts reduced down from G to an F, then an E. My waist started to reappear. My thighs became less fatty. The loss of weight made me feel so much healthier. I had a desire to exercise and so I began to walk. I marched up and down hills at high speed for at least an hour a day. I got a bike. I took up yoga. Everyone started commenting on my weight loss.

‘Wow,' they'd say every time I went to the pub or a party, ‘you've lost so much weight. You look amazing!' Their comments began to work. I started to feel amazing. I felt lighter, fitter, more attractive and without doubt, sexier.

Sometimes, when we went out and I'd have on a tight dress and high heels, I'd catch my husband beaming with pride.

Despite the fact that he always said he loved me as I was, he definitely preferred this version of me.

It's amazing how much sexier you feel once you are fitter. The walking and bicycling gave me renewed energy for life. If I felt like eating, I'd go out on my bike instead. I would be toning up and getting fitter while losing weight — that was my theory anyway.

Did losing weight change my sex life? Of course it did! As I began to head towards 11 stone — I have now stayed there for a year or more — I started to be able to fit in to the types of clothes I wanted to wear. I invested in a new wardrobe of pencil skirts, fitted shirts and high heels.

I had a lesson on how to put on make-up properly. I had my hair cut and dyed.

I have re-emerged, four years down the line, a new version of me — a glossier, silkier, smarter, more sophisticated and much slimmer, more confident woman.

When I see myself naked, I like what I see. I think I look good, fit and healthy. I don't wobble now. I don't droop. It's not possible to get lost in my thighs.

The Rubenesque has gone. It has been replaced by something half that size; something with energy and seductive allure — something sexy.