ONE of the tasks that caused Philip Le Claire untold embarrassment at work was the need to impress upon job seekers the importance of taking pride in their appearance.
Weighing in at some 24 stone, Philip was – in his own words – an ‘overblown blob’ and as he sat awkwardly in his office chair delivering a critique of the other person’s appearance, he was only too aware of the elephant in the room.
‘I was working for Social Security as an employability training manager about four years ago, telling job seekers that appearance was really important,’ explains Philip (56). ‘The job seekers weren’t particularly reticent in coming forward to remark, “well, YOU got a job”.
‘Before that, I was working for the charity Mind and I used to bang on about five-a-day for mental health. But the irony was that I was this 24-stone blob of a man stood in front of the audience telling them they needed to look after their physical and mental health. I was such a bad example because my physical health was clearly compromised by the fact I was so fat.
‘I couldn’t even buy clothes that didn’t hurt to put on and wear because everything was too tight.’
Philip says one of the ways he dealt with social interactions as a larger-than life man was by making jokes about his weight.
‘I always tried to brazen it all out and hid behind humour,’ admits Philip, who recalls how the sound of people’s laughter at the jokes he cracked would exacerbate his anxiety. He may have been the life and soul of the party in his friends’ eyes, but beneath the happy-go-lucky persona Philip felt depressed.
‘I always had this veneer – everyone thought I was this big, confident, funny fat bloke.’
Looking back now, he believes he was in a state of denial.
‘I kidded myself that it was a temporary thing, I’d think “I’ll keep those trousers as I’ll get back into them soon”. But the bigger you get, the less able you are to exercise – and the less able you are to exercise, the bigger you get.’
For Philip, the sight of his bulky body filling the mirror was completely at odds with the trim figure he cut as a young soldier.
‘I joined the army when I was 19 to become a bandsman,’ explains the St Lawrence resident, who grew up in St Helier and whose parents were musicians. ‘Before I could become a bandsman I had to pass out as a regular soldier, so I had to be as fit as any other soldier – and I was. I had a 28-inch waist back then.
‘I had a healthy soldier’s appetite and when I came back to Jersey at the age of 26 I kept the appetite but didn’t keep the fitness.’
Initially his physique didn’t change all that much – ‘I was doing a lot of manual jobs’ – but an office job signalled the start of his slow descent from slim Phil to, in his words, ‘Fat Phil’.
‘I got a job at the construction company AC Mauger Construction as a trainee buyer in 1988. I guess that’s when the weight started to creep on, very slowly at first.’
After becoming a dad when his wife gave birth to his son and daughter, Philip’s career blossomed at developer Dandara, where he was soon appointed head of procurement. The job involved international travel, but it wasn’t only his air miles that shot up – his weight soared.
‘I was 38 and that’s when I really started to pile on the pounds. I would jump on planes to Germany and wherever else to look at a certain brand’s kitchens or granite products and negotiate for all of Dandara’s developments, and I’d be grabbing meals in airports and eating fast food on the hoof.
‘Whenever I was in the office I’d have a couple of bacon rolls at 10 am each day and at home I would cook massive roast dinners.
‘I used healthy ingredients, but probably cooked twice as much as you actually need – I wouldn’t have a couple of potatoes, I’d have half a bag.’
For Phil, whose first job was as an apprentice carpenter, the chiselled features he had as a young soldier had faded to a distant memory. Instead of facing up to the reality of his burgeoning waistline, he turned to beer.
‘I didn’t have a particularly healthy relationship with alcohol. I would work hard and play hard. At weekends I’d often binge drink – I could easily get through eight cans of Stella a night, as well as a bottle of wine or two.’
It took the death of a famous popstar to force Philip to rethink his lifestyle.
‘I was doing very well in my career, but I didn’t love myself and wasn’t looking after myself.
‘The game-changer for me was when George Michael died. I’m not a George Michael fan – I don’t particularly like his music – but his death on Christmas Day 2016 made me think, “I don’t want to die”. There was a guy with all the money in the world who was younger than me and he had dropped dead.’
Philip immediately resolved to turn himself from a sedentary ‘slob’ into an action man.
‘My grandfather used to say the way for a person to lose weight was to “put less in your gob and move your feet more” – and that’s what I did.’
He admits it was easier said than done – and a road accident had not helped his cause.
‘I’d broken my leg and my ribs in a serious motor scooter accident some time back – I was in intensive care for a while – and when I started exercising last January, I was using a walking stick and wasn’t able to walk very far.
‘Swimming was the only thing at that time that didn’t hurt my leg so I went in the pool every night at Les Quennevais. That was great, but coming out of the changing room wearing just my swim shorts was really embarrassing because I was so fat and blobby.’
Undeterred, he pressed on with his weight-loss regime.
‘I started weighing myself every day and created a spreadsheet with a graph. I ran a trend line on it to show when I would hit 18 stone. Every day I weighed myself and filled in my little graph and it was really encouraging to see that I started to dip below the trend line.
‘So even when I had a bad day and had a pasty, a packet of crisps, a coke and all the rest of it and I went up a couple of pounds, it was okay. I developed the willpower to eat sensibly and exercise, so two days later I’d be back under the trend line.’
He says it was willpower – and willpower alone – that kept him on track.
‘In the early days last year there were a lot of restless nights with my stomach growling.
‘And early on I went for a walk round Queen’s Valley Reservoir and afterwards when I got back to my car I was purple in the face, puffing and my chest hurt. I thought my leg was going to explode it was so painful and my clothes were soaked through with sweat.
‘But when I was working for Social Security we would talk to job seekers about how it takes 90 days to perfect a good habit, so I knew I needed to be determined. Unfortunately there is no magic bullet – it’s about lifestyle change and having a healthier relationship with food.’
For Phil, that has meant reduced portions rather than fad diets – and plenty of porridge.
‘I haven’t gone on a diet, I still eat and drink what I want, but I do it in moderation. I also try to eat slowly because there’s a disconnect between your stomach and your brain, where your stomach doesn’t tell your brain that it’s full until ten minutes later.
‘I have a big bowl of porridge every morning too. The porridge gives me energy right through until lunch time, when I have some fruit and a sandwich.
‘And popcorn, believe it or not, has been a surprising lifesaver when it comes to picking. You can get popcorn that only has 75 calories in a bag so you can sit at your desk stuffing your face when you get the munchies and it doesn’t put the weight on.’
As the pounds fell away, Philip became increasingly active and today, sport is his staple diet.
‘I do a lot of exercise, whereas before I was a dreadful TV soap opera slob. I walk every day, cycle, and swim, and I’ve rediscovered my passion for archery.’
The chairman of the Archers of Jersey, Philip says his inflated frame used to get in the way of his ability to play.
‘I was always an archer, but before I struggled. Now I can shoot all day and my archery has improved because my “moobs” don’t get in the way.’
Moobs?
‘My man-boobs! When I was drawing the bow string before, the string would be here and my hand would actually be out here’ – he points to an area about a foot in front of his chest – ‘because of my man-boobs. Now I can get right in close and pull the bow string up against my chest.’
As any parent knows, children don’t stay in one size of clothing for long and Philip similarly raced through clothes sizes – albeit in the opposite direction.
‘When I got down to 18 stone, I bought a new wardrobe of clothes, but within two months that was all too big for me so I had to get a whole new wardrobe. I got down to 16½ stone and I had to buy an entirely new wardrobe again – and the weight kept coming off. Now I’m under 15 stone and in a pair of 34-inch trousers.’
Being able to confidently head into the high street has been a liberating sensation for the 56-year-old.
‘Before, the experience of trying on clothes had been one of bitter disappointment – you would see something you liked, you’d take the biggest size on the rail and it wouldn’t go anywhere near getting round your belly. The only thing that fitted me were the socks – and even they were tight, so I had to buy everything on the internet.
‘Now, for the first time in years I can go into Burtons, Marks & Spencer or wherever and try on normal, human-sized clothes! It’s a really strange feeling, but a lovely one.’
Last Sunday he completed two loops of that Queen’s Valley Reservoir route which almost defeated him a little more than a year ago – ‘this time I got back to the car without feeling like I had done any exercise’ – and he has signed up for the Diabetes Jersey North-South walk for a second year running, having completed it for the first time last summer.
And as his waistline has shrunk, his confidence has swelled.
Philip, who founded Autism Jersey in 2005, returned to the charity last month as its project manager in charge of the search to find the organisation a new home.
And last week Philip, whose son Sam is autistic, learned that he had been promoted.
‘I’ve just been appointed director of operations at Autism Jersey – these days I have the confidence to push myself forward to embrace opportunities, in work and in my spare time. I even took up ballroom dancing in September. I had no idea how physical it is, but it’s fab.’
Philip has also enjoyed reconnecting with Autism Jersey’s adult social club.
‘I set the social club up back in the charity’s early days and when I put my head through the door recently, some of the people who attended the club back then were still there.
‘Lots of people with autism don’t do facial recognition so I walked in thinking they wouldn’t recognise me, but one of the guys let out a squeal of delight and shouted: “It’s Phil Le Claire, but he’s not fat anymore.”
‘They were all really interested in what happened to Fat Phil, it was delightful.’
He admits the disappearance of ‘Fat Phil’ has flummoxed his own family once or twice.
‘My friends and family have been really supportive, although there has been a bit of disbelief. I walked past my auntie in the street last week and she didn’t notice me initially because she was looking out for the old Fat Phil. She said she had forgotten that I wasn’t fat anymore.’
For the new, svelte Philip, life is full of adventures. Aside from his many sporting pursuits, he plays the clarinet in the La Ronde Concert Band and sings in the Jersey Festival Choir.
He still indulges occasionally – ‘I had a bit of a binge at Easter as there’s no point being too draconian with yourself’ – but Philip uses every method he can muster to prevent regressing to his former super-sized self.
‘Even now, every newsagents I go in, every garage I go in has a pasty with my name on it that’s waving at me. But these days I go food shopping after I’ve eaten. It’s much easier to resist the Cornish pasties on a full stomach – and I don’t think anyone in the world has bought a kebab sober!
‘Overall, life is wonderful. I had become very disabled in lots of different ways and now I feel very able.’
