When I was a baby, my father remarked to my mother: 'She's going to have problems with her weight in the future.' Apparently I was physically very similar to his mother. It turned out he was right but not for the reasons he believed. Ironically, it was his life choices that set me on the road to super morbid obesity. Whenever I want to imagine myself as slim and fit I have to go way back through the photo albums to the age of twelve or so. My thighs were so muscular, tanned and slim then! I ate normally, felt normally, behaved normally. I had friends at school, worked hard, and as the daughter of a vicar, was expected to behave impeccably.

At the age of twelve my father abruptly left his children, his job and his wife for another woman and we had to vacate the vicarage quickly. We moved to a small, moldering terraced house in a rough part of Manchester. Our diet changed to extremely poor quality food as my mother struggled to care for her three children without the assistance of Child Support (I don't think it had been invented then).

I ate to comfort myself, to choke down my feelings of abandonment and sadness. I stole change from my mother to buy sweets, I sneaked out of school at lunchtimes to go home and eat chips and cry on my own. My weight gain and my obvious differences in life experiences from my new classmates meant I was bullied, not only by the 'in crowd' of girls in their smart clothes, but also by my sadistic PE teacher, who on one occasion brought a tape measure into the girls' changing rooms and measured everyone's vital statistics. The closer to the fabled 36-24-36 they were, the more they were congratulated upon for being 'nearly right'.

My home life didn't improve. My mother met a man who was an alcoholic and he moved in after their second date. Years of drink, violence, abuse and other horrors took its toll on my mental health and I began self-harming in secret. How is a fourteen year old schoolgirl, already reeling from changes in her life supposed to react when she comes home from school to find her stepfather passed out in the garden, his trousers to his knees, fully exposed and wet from urinating on himself? Worse still was later on when he had come round, expected to sit around the dinner table as if nothing had happened.

My weight climbed and my self-esteem plummeted. At fifteen I went on my first ever diet. A quarter of a glass of grapefruit juice for breakfast, half a slice of dry toast for lunch and a quarter of a tin of mushroom soup for dinner. I lost weight, I obsessed about food constantly and my yo-yo had begun its lifelong twirling.

I dieted several times in my life - sure to lose many stones then just as surely putting them back on and some.

One does not simply wake up at 27 stone, it is the peak of years of food use, abuse and denial. My last big loss was in 2008 when I lost almost eight stone through strict diet and increased exercise. Four years later ... every stone is back and they, as always, brought a couple of friends back with them.

I know this would have been the pattern for my almost certainly truncated life had I not had the incredible good fortune to have a mother about to receive a hefty inheritance along with a deep sense of guilt and regret for some of her life choices. I asked her several months ago if she would consider releasing some of the funds that she intended leaving to her children in the future early, enabling me to have private WLS. She said yes.

It has happened very, very quickly. A medical screen by a bariatric nurse yesterday, followed by a consultation with a surgeon booked for next Tuesday. As soon as the funds come through (early December) I will have a date for a sleeve gastrectomy booked.

The WLS is only ever going to be an aid, not a cure for my weight. I know I have years of poor eating habits and psychological difficulties to work on. But I have never been in a happier place personally than I am now. A husband (blimey!), a sense of direction (future children and employment) and a maturity of self set me in good stead for this undertaking.

Bring it on.