By Richard Hartley-Parkinson
Things had to change (Picture: Natasha Pszenicki)
We were sitting in a café when it happened.
As I took a sip of my coffee, my friend stared intently at me and said, ‘c’mon… you can tell me?’
At first I was perplexed. Then she delivered a line I’ve heard far too many times over the last few months: ‘It’s Ozempic isn’t it?’
The first sign I was putting on weight was in 2016 when I convinced myself that my shirts were shrinking in the wash.
The second was when a gym-bunny colleague asked me a few months later if I was bulking up for weight training – I was too embarrassed to say anything other than ‘yes’.
I ignored those signs for a couple of years, instead leaving the top button undone so my collar didn’t strangle me and shunning tops with short sleeves.
The pounds were piling on, I threw my size 32 jeans away, bought baggier T-shirts, and I’d resigned myself to my philosophy ‘better to die fat and happy than skinny and hungry’.
I was well into the overweight category on the BMI scale by late 2018 (Picture: Richard Hartley-Parkinson)
That mindset held me until my brutally honest friend told me: ‘You’re getting fat’.
At 92kg (14 and a half stone), I was well into the overweight category on the BMI scale by late 2018.
With my wedding looming, I went on Joe Wick’s 90-day challenge, losing a respectable 4kg.
I felt more confident, but the fitness buzz quickly faded. The weight crept back on and I hit my peak: 96kg (15 stone) – the precipice of obesity.
I didn’t like my body – I was repulsed by my folds of back fat, and I grew facial hair to mask my double chin.
Fast forward a couple of years, I became a father then had a health scare. Things had to change.
I grew facial hair to mask my double chin (Picture: Richard Hartley-Parkinson)
Richard has cycled thousands of miles on his fitness journey – pictured here with is bike and wearing a Lululemon vest matched with H&M shorts (Picture: Natasha Pszenicki)
I took up cycling, joined the gym, and became religious about monitoring the food I was eating.
It’s not rocket science, but it’s bloody hard work – hard work that I’m happy to say has led to me losing 15kg (nearly two and a half stone) in 18 months.
For the first time since I can remember, I have finally been able to wear vest tops without feeling conscious of the wobbly bits.
In the main, people have complimented my weight loss, but more recently some have openly suggested that it was because of Ozempic, a drug that is used both for weight loss and diabetes treatment.
After 18 months of hard graft, keeping calorie counts, getting up at 5.30am to work out, cycling through wind, hail and storm, creating complicated spreadsheets, that assumption stings, like an accusation of cheating.
Finally I can wear vest tops without being self-conscious (vest and shorts by Lululemon)(Picture: Natasha Pszenicki)
There were moments when I wondered if I was getting a bit obsessive with tracking calories. I started seeing them as the enemy, almost forgetting they’re essential for life, especially considering how active I’ve become.
Now on the north side of 40, I’ve built up resilience to snap out of that way of thinking quickly.
However, it helped me understand better the ‘Instagram perfect’ mindset that can plague younger people and the body dysmorphia that is felt by people of all sizes – yes, that includes those in the gym with seemingly perfect physiques.
I believed I needed a lifestyle change, not a quick fix (Picture: Richard Hartley-Parkinson)
I have the confidence to tell people accusing me of being a drug cheat to piss off (Picture: Natasha Pszenicki)
I have nothing but respect for people who turn to weight loss medications when all other options have failed and they have a genuine need.
Maybe I’m just a gym-bore snob when it comes to these drugs and I’ve never been tempted to use them. I believed I needed a lifestyle change, not a quick fix.
But hard work deserves respect. When that effort is doubted, it can be deeply damaging.
I have the confidence to tell people accusing me of being a drug cheat to piss off. But others – whose struggles with weight are tied to self-confidence or mental health – could be knocked right off track by such assumptions.
Losing weight is complex, personal and often lonely. It’s time we start celebrating every honest journey, whatever shape it takes.
That honesty, though, is often invisible – especially in a world obsessed with shortcuts and filters.
After I shared a photo from the photoshoot for this article, several friends questioned whether I’d used AI.
I get it. We’re so used to seeing bodies transformed by apps, drugs or angles that the idea of slow, sweaty, spreadsheet-fuelled change feels almost unbelievable.
But that’s exactly what this is. No shortcuts. No filters. Just me.