Bye Bye Fatman, Hereford, Herefordshire (2025)

01/07/2025

Why so many men suffer in silence — and why I refuse to anymore.Let’s talk about something that’s been taboo for too long: men and body image.Most people assume it’s only women who struggle with weight, with mirrors, with shame. But I’m here to tell you — as a man, and as Bye Bye Fatman — the struggle is real for us too. We just don’t talk about it.From an early age, boys are told to “man up”, “toughen up”, “suck it up”. We’re taught to ignore pain, never show weakness, and never, ever admit we don’t feel good in our own skin.So what happens?We stay silent.We joke about our guts, our man b***s, our bad knees.We call it a “dad bod” and laugh it off.We die young from preventable conditions.We don’t go to the doctor until it’s too late.We turn to food, alcohol, work, anger — anything but vulnerability.I was one of those men.I joked about being “the big guy”.I made myself the funny one, the loud one, the likeable one — so no one would see how much I hated my body.Behind closed doors, I binged. I sweated through clothes. I avoided mirrors. I skipped parties. I ducked out of family photos. I didn’t recognise myself. And I didn’t know how to say it.Because real men aren’t supposed to talk like that, right?Wrong.That’s why I became Bye Bye Fatman.Not just to lose weight.But to break the silence.To say out loud what millions of men are feeling inside.To talk about food addiction, shame, depression, and trauma.To show that vulnerability is not weakness — it’s strength.And let me tell you something I’ve learned on this journey:There are so many men out there suffering in silence.Brilliant dads, husbands, brothers, uncles.They crack jokes at the braai, then go home and cry alone.They say “I’m fine” when they’re anything but.They’ve been told their worth depends on strength — but never shown how to be strong in their truth.So let’s change the conversation.Let’s stop pretending men don’t care about how they look or feel.Let’s stop mocking men who cry, men who ask for help, men who say “I’m not okay”.Let’s build a new model of masculinity — one rooted in honesty, health, and humanity.To the men reading this:Your health matters.Your story matters.You don’t have to suffer in silence.You don’t have to do it alone.I’m Bye Bye Fatman, and I’m still in the fight — not just for myself, but for us.

01/07/2025

THANK YOU 🙏💙

To the wonderful people of Facebook—friends, family, and even strangers who became part of our story—thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

Your support for our GoFundMe appeal, after our shipment from Germany failed to arrive in Zambia, has meant the world to us. We are overwhelmed by your kindness, your generosity, and your belief in us.

We feel truly blessed to have so many friends we’ve yet to meet.

And to those who reached out when we were recently burgled—thank you again. Your messages, prayers, and donations helped us through some incredibly tough days.

Despite the setbacks, we now have beds for ourselves and our children, a fridge, and other basic kitchen appliances. We are slowly rebuilding. We still hope to replace some of the clothes and personal items we lost—but we move forward with hope in our hearts.

Life hasn’t been easy, but we choose to focus on what we do have:
Each other.
Our children.
And an abundance of love, laughter, and gratitude in our home.

God bless you all. You’ve made a difference in our lives. 💛

30/06/2025

Fat and Funny: Using Humour to Cope

I didn’t choose to be the class clown.
I became the class clown because it was safer than being the punchline.

From a young age, I knew I was different. Not massively overweight—at first—but just enough to be picked out, pointed at, whispered about. And in the jungle of the playground, different means dangerous.

So what do you do when you’re a little bit chubbier than the rest?
You survive.
You adapt.
You become the one who gets the laugh before the bully does.
You turn your body into a comedy routine, so no one else has the chance to turn it into an insult.

“If I mock myself, maybe you won’t.”
That was the logic.
Twisted, but it worked.
They laughed with me, so they didn’t have to laugh at me.

The fat kid becomes the funny kid.

It’s a script so many of us lived, whether we wanted to or not.
The big boy. The jolly girl. The one who’s “got such a great personality.”
We danced. We joked. We became the entertainment.
And people loved us for it.

But what they didn’t see was the pain behind the punchlines.
The sick feeling when PE was announced.
The panic at swimming lessons.
The terror of chairs with arms.
The quiet sobbing after school when the jokes weren’t funny anymore.

And that act? It doesn’t always end in childhood.

I carried it into adulthood.
Into friendships.
Into relationships.
Even into Bye Bye Fatman.

I’ve made people laugh with stories about broken chairs and failed diets and sweaty hugs and awkward plane seats. And some of those stories are funny. There’s healing in laughter.

But there’s a difference between laughing to connect and laughing to hide.

Behind the humour was a binge eating disorder I didn’t know I had.
A trauma I hadn’t named.
A cycle I couldn’t break.
I’ve been on every diet. Done the gym thing. Done therapy. Shared my journey. Gained. Lost. Gained again. And still, that inner child—the chubby kid on the playground—sometimes wants to jump in and make everyone laugh before the shame gets too loud.

But here’s what I’ve learned:

You don’t have to be the clown to be loved.
You don’t have to hide your hurt behind a punchline.
You can be vulnerable. You can be quiet. You can say, “I’m not okay today.”

I’m still Bye Bye Fatman. I still love to laugh. I still make a joke to ease the tension.
But I’m also done being the punchline.

If you grew up being the fat, funny one, this is your permission to stop performing.
To just be.
Because who you are—without the act—is more than enough.

30/06/2025

10 Things That Actually Helped Me Lose Weight

No gimmicks. No filters. Just real-life lessons from someone who’s lived the struggle – Bye Bye Fatman

Let’s be honest: the weight loss industry is built on selling hope in a bottle. I’ve been through it all – yo-yo diets, gym guilt, miracle solutions that turned out to be smoke and mirrors. But through years of trial, error, tears, and triumphs, I’ve found a few things that really worked for me.

They’re not flashy. But they’re real. And they’ve helped me build a healthier, more sustainable life.

1. Tracking Honestly – Without Shame

I started writing down what I ate. Not to punish myself, but to observe and understand. Seeing it laid out removed the emotion and brought clarity. Honesty, not perfection, is what created change.

2. Walking – A Lot

I didn’t start with boot camps or burpees. I just walked. Consistently. It cleared my head, boosted my mood, and got my body moving. It may not be sexy, but walking changed my life.

3. VLCD (Very Low-Calorie Diet) – At the Right Time

When I felt completely out of control, a structured, simplified approach using shakes and soups helped reset my habits. It gave me the space to breathe and re-centre. Not forever, but just enough to get back on track.

4. Therapy – Because This Was Never Just About Food

I had to face some hard truths: my issues with food weren’t about hunger. They were about trauma, childhood conditioning, and deep emotional needs. Therapy helped me connect the dots and start to heal.

5. Protein First, Always

Prioritising protein helped me feel satisfied and stable. A boiled egg or some grilled fish often stopped me spiralling into emotional eating. It wasn’t fancy – just effective.

6. Digital Accountability

Sharing my journey as Bye Bye Fatman made me feel seen. It gave me purpose. It built community. And it reminded me every day that I wasn’t struggling alone – and neither are you.

7. Forgiving Myself

I used to beat myself up for every mistake. Now I know the truth: guilt is useless, but grace is powerful. I stopped expecting perfection and started focusing on progress.

8. Avoiding the “All or Nothing” Trap

One bad meal doesn’t ruin a day. One setback doesn’t erase success. I stopped waiting for the mythical “perfect Monday” and started doing the next right thing, right now.

9. Understanding My Addiction

Food is my drug. I had to accept that, without shame. My patterns were compulsive and emotional. Naming it for what it is – an addiction – helped me start treating it seriously.

10. Focusing on Life, Not Just Weight

The number on the scale is only one part of the story. What matters more? Being able to run after my kids. Sleeping better. Feeling proud of my reflection. I stopped chasing thinness and started chasing wholeness.

I’m not done. I still stumble. But I don’t give up.

And if you’re in the fight too – whether you’re at the start, stuck in the middle, or clawing your way back – I want you to know: you are not alone.

You don’t need perfection. You need purpose.
And your next step matters more than your last mistake.

29/06/2025

The Ozempic Dilemma: Quick Fix or Long-Term Trap?

Let’s talk about something that’s dominating the conversation around weight loss right now: Ozempic (and its cousins Wegovy, Mounjaro, etc). Once meant for diabetes, now repurposed as the miracle drug for weight loss. Celebrities use it. Influencers whisper about it. Some hail it as revolutionary. Others call it dangerous.

So where do I stand?

I’m Bye Bye Fatman. I’ve never used Ozempic or any weight loss drug. I’ve done VLCDs (very low-calorie diets). I’ve counted every macro. I’ve done gym transformations, public accountability, therapy, and more. My journey has been filled with victories and setbacks, hope and heartbreak. And that journey gives me perspective.

Let me say this clearly:
There’s no such thing as cheating when it comes to reclaiming your health.
If something genuinely helps you live longer, feel better, move more, and improve your quality of life—then it’s worth considering.

But we need to talk about the bigger picture.

1. The Benefits Are Real… But So Are the Questions

Yes, Ozempic can suppress appetite. Yes, it can lead to dramatic weight loss. For some, it’s a lifeline—a way to break out of a dangerous spiral of bingeing, insulin resistance, and despair. And in a world where so many of us are stuck in toxic cycles, I understand the appeal.

But is it sustainable?
What happens when you stop?
What happens when your body adapts?
What are the long-term side effects—on mood, digestion, metabolism?
And do we really want to become dependent on a drug for the rest of our lives?

2. Big Pharma: Saviour or Snake Oil Salesman?

Let’s not pretend this is just about health. It’s also about profit.
These drugs are expensive—and prices keep rising. In the U.S., the cost of Ozempic has already gone up significantly in the past few years. And who controls the price? The same pharmaceutical giants who brought us the opioid crisis. The same industry that charges thousands for insulin.

So while Ozempic might help some people, it also raises serious ethical questions:
Do we trust Big Pharma any more than we trust Big Food?
Are we just swapping one addiction for another, one dependency for a different kind?

3. What Does Real Change Look Like?

For me, transformation isn’t about a magic bullet. It’s about mindset. It’s about why we eat, not just what we eat. It’s about addressing the emotional, psychological, and environmental triggers that led us to obesity in the first place.

A drug can silence your hunger, but it can’t fix your relationship with food. It can help you lose weight, but it can’t teach you self-compassion. And it certainly can’t build long-term resilience or self-worth.

That’s not to say you shouldn’t use it. I’m not here to judge anyone’s path. But true change takes more than a prescription.

Would I take Ozempic?
Maybe.
I’m open to it.
I don’t believe in shame. I believe in doing what works. But I’d go in with my eyes open. Carefully. Critically. With a plan for what comes after the drug.

Because whether you take the slow road or use a shortcut, this is still a journey. And for those of us who live with food addiction, body image issues, and years of trauma around weight—it’s never just about a number on the scale.

It’s about living a life we’re proud of. A life that feels free.

28/06/2025

STOP BLAMING THE INDIVIDUAL

It’s easy to point fingers.
“He just needs to eat less.”
“She should exercise more.”
“They have no discipline.”

But that kind of thinking is not only cruel, it’s dangerously simplistic. It completely ignores the truth about what shapes people’s health: environment, poverty, trauma, and corporate power.

Let me tell you how I know.

I’m Bye Bye Fatman.
I’ve lost a lot of weight.
I’ve gained some back.
I’ve been celebrated and ridiculed, sometimes in the same week.
And I live in a world where we are all sold lies about food, bodies, and self-worth.

Let’s go back to childhood.

As a boy, I wasn’t overweight. In fact, I was perfectly normal. But adults around me constantly said otherwise.
“Stop eating, you’re getting fat.”
“You’ve got puppy fat.”
“You’re greedy.”
“You don’t need seconds.”

And so began my war with food. I learned early that food wasn’t just fuel. It was shame. It was reward. It was guilt. It was love. It was punishment. And slowly, silently, food became my drug.

I developed a binge eating disorder long before I had the language to explain what was happening. I would hide food. I would eat in secret. I would feel disgusted afterwards but powerless to stop.

This didn’t come from laziness. It came from pain.

Food addiction is real. It’s as complex and compulsive as alcohol or gambling. You can’t simply “willpower” your way out of it, especially when the food system is designed to keep you hooked.

Ultra-processed foods—pumped with salt, sugar, and fat—are scientifically engineered by billion-dollar corporations to trigger the brain’s reward centres and keep us coming back. And they don’t just sell us these foods. They market them aggressively, especially in lower-income communities where healthy alternatives are often unaffordable or unavailable.

We blame the individual while ignoring the fact that this is a deliberately rigged system.

And what about trauma? Poverty? Mental health?

People eat for reasons that have nothing to do with hunger:
• To numb anxiety
• To survive depression
• To distract from abuse
• To feel in control
• To escape grief
• To fill an emotional void left by neglect or abandonment

I’ve had therapy. I’ve tried fad diets. I’ve joined gyms, done HIIT classes, read all the books. And sometimes it works. Sometimes I feel in control. And sometimes, like so many others, I spiral again.

This is the part people don’t see. The cycle. Progress. Relapse. Shame. Resolve. Repeat.

Stop blaming the individual. Start questioning the system.

Instead of saying, “Why can’t they just stop eating?”, we should be asking:
“Why are people hurting so much they turn to food for survival?”
“Why is mental health support so inaccessible?”
“Why are unhealthy foods cheaper than real nutrition?”
“Why do we treat people with eating disorders so differently depending on their size?”

People with bulimia or anorexia are met with concern. But people who are morbidly obese are met with disgust. This is fatphobia, and it is killing people.

My name is Bye Bye Fatman, and I’m still in the fight.

I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m asking for understanding. I’m asking that we see obesity for what it is: a public health issue with psychological, social, and structural roots.

If you’re struggling, you are not weak. You are not a failure. You are not alone.

And if you’ve never struggled with food or body image, be grateful—but don’t judge.

27/06/2025

Stop Blaming the Individual

Let’s say it clearly: obesity is not a moral failing.

We live in a world where the overweight are laughed at, dismissed, stared at, and even hated. Strangers think it’s OK to make comments. Doctors sometimes offer only one solution, even when the issue is complex. Job interviews become harder. Flights more humiliating. And every time you try to reclaim your health, you’re already carrying the weight of shame before you’ve even stepped on the scale.

But here’s the truth I wish more people understood: obesity isn’t just about food. It’s about pain, trauma, poverty, and the environment we live in.

I’m Bye Bye Fatman. I’ve lost a huge amount of weight. I’ve also gained some of it back. I’m still fighting. Still learning. Still hurting sometimes. My story is not a straight line. It’s not a “before and after” photo. It’s a cycle of progress, struggle, relapse, and resilience.

And I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve had support. I’ve had moments of clarity. I’ve had the time to reflect, and the platforms to speak out. But most people don’t. Most people just get judged.

Why do we treat obesity differently from other eating disorders?

If someone has bulimia or anorexia, we rightly respond with concern and sympathy. We recognise these as mental health conditions that need compassion and specialist care. But if someone is morbidly obese, we call them lazy. Greedy. Weak-willed. We mock them in memes and reality TV shows.

Let me be very clear: binge eating disorder is real.
Emotional eating is real.
Food addiction is real.
And they are just as psychologically rooted as any other eating disorder.

No one wakes up and chooses to binge until they’re in pain. No one dreams of becoming breathless going up stairs or having to shop in special clothing stores. Obesity is often a symptom of deeper wounds—childhood trauma, stress, depression, abuse, neglect, loneliness. For many, eating is the only comfort they’ve ever known. And ultra-processed food is engineered by billion-dollar companies to exploit that comfort response.

Let’s talk about poverty and environment

We like to say, “Just eat better and move more.” But that ignores reality.

How do you “eat better” when you live in a food desert or a poor neighbourhood where the cheapest, most accessible foods are ultra-processed, fried, sugary, and addictive? How do you “move more” when you work two jobs, live in an unsafe area, or have no energy left at the end of the day?

This is not about individual choices. This is about systems—
• A global food industry designed to hook us.
• Marketing that targets the poor and the vulnerable.
• A lack of mental health care.
• A society that stigmatises instead of supports.

You can’t shame people into change. Shame only makes it worse.

So what do we do?

We change the narrative. We talk about this openly and honestly, without judgement.
We call out fatphobia.
We address childhood trauma.
We invest in mental health services.
We challenge corporations profiting from pain.
And we recognise that obesity, like any health issue, deserves care, not cruelty.

My journey is ongoing. And I’m still learning.

Sometimes I still eat too much. Sometimes I feel the darkness creeping in again. But I never stop trying. Because I know the difference now. I know that what I needed wasn’t shame. I needed healing. And I still do.

To anyone out there struggling: you are not lazy, or disgusting, or worthless. You are hurting. And you deserve help. You are not alone.

Let’s stop blaming individuals for what society refuses to fix.

27/06/2025

In Defence of Mwaka Halwiindi: A Call for Compassion in an Age of Cruelty

I’ve spent years putting my life on display for the world to see. My story, my family, my victories, my flaws – all shared in pixels and posts. Social media can be a wonderful tool for connection, expression and identity, but when things turn, it can be a brutal battlefield. That’s why I write this in defence of Mwaka Halwiindi, a young Zambian woman whose name is now being dragged through the digital mud.

If you don’t know the details, good. You don’t need to. What matters is this: a private, intimate video, allegedly involving Mwaka, has been leaked without her consent. That is not a scandal. That is a violation. A crime. And the real shame lies not with her, but with those who filmed, leaked, shared, reposted or gleefully gossiped.

Let’s be very clear:
No one deserves this.
No one asks for this.
No one should have to rebuild their life because of a moment that was never meant for public consumption.

Fame – especially in Zambia’s rising influencer scene – is fragile. It brings with it smiles and applause, yes, but also scrutiny, judgement, and in moments like these, outright cruelty. Those of us who live at least part of our lives in public know what it feels like to be praised one day and torn down the next. We know how quickly admiration curdles into condemnation.

But this isn’t just about fame. It’s about privacy. About consent. About gender. Let’s not pretend that if Mwaka were male, the tone of these conversations would be the same. Let’s not ignore the deep vein of misogyny running through so many of the comments online. Why is it always the woman who is shamed? Why is her life the one that gets shattered?

To those sharing the video: stop. Every view, every share, every whisper behind closed doors is another blow to a woman already being humiliated. You are not innocent bystanders. You are active participants in her pain.

To Mwaka: you are not alone. You are not what they say. You are not the worst moment someone else decided to exploit. You are strong. You are worthy. You are a victim of betrayal, not a perpetrator of shame.

And to the rest of us: now is the time for compassion. For kindness. For integrity. We are all walking around with things we wouldn’t want aired publicly. “He who is without sin, cast the first stone.” That’s not just a quote. It’s a warning.

Let’s be the kind of country that lifts people up, not one that destroys them for entertainment. Zambia, we can do better than this. And we must.

Protect her. Defend her. Stand with her.

27/06/2025

Obesity in Africa: A New Crisis

By Bye Bye Fatman – a muzungu living the African reality

When people think of Africa, they often imagine hunger, malnutrition, and food scarcity. But there’s a silent and growing crisis spreading across the continent that doesn’t fit those stereotypes: obesity.

We are living through a health emergency that few are talking about. Urbanisation, changing diets, and class dynamics have given rise to a surge in obesity-related conditions—hypertension, diabetes, stroke, heart disease—across much of Africa, and it’s happening fast.

Let’s be specific.
In Zambia, where I live, nearly one in five adults is now classified as obese, and many more are overweight. Across Sub-Saharan Africa, countries like South Africa, Botswana, Ghana, and Nigeria are reporting alarming increases in non-communicable diseases directly linked to lifestyle: high blood pressure, type 2 diabetes, liver disease, and certain cancers. These conditions, once considered “Western problems”, are now African problems too.

So what’s going on?

1. Urbanisation and Western Diets

As African nations develop and urban populations grow, traditional diets—once rich in whole grains, fresh vegetables, legumes and lean proteins—are being replaced by ultra-processed, sugary, salty, fatty foods. Fried chicken, fizzy drinks, instant noodles, and white bread have become staples. Supermarkets and fast-food chains have taken the place of village markets.

There’s a misconception that these foods are a sign of modern success. In many families, offering fizzy drinks or processed snacks is a gesture of pride. But the consequences are devastating.

2. Class and Status

In some communities, being “well fed” is still seen as a sign of wealth, prosperity, or good living. Particularly for women, larger body types have historically been celebrated as signs of beauty and stability. But cultural admiration of size has collided with dangerous dietary patterns, and it’s costing lives.

3. Alcohol Dependency

We can’t talk about lifestyle disease in Africa without addressing alcohol. In Zambia and beyond, alcohol is readily available, often cheap, and deeply embedded in social life. From celebrations to funerals to everyday stress relief, it plays a powerful role. But its effects—on the liver, the pancreas, and mental health—are staggering. Many people who would never consider themselves alcoholics are, in reality, physiologically dependent. And this dependency often coexists with poor diets and lack of exercise, accelerating health decline.

4. The Health System Strain

African health systems are still mostly designed to treat infectious disease—malaria, TB, HIV. But now they’re being overwhelmed by lifestyle illnesses that require long-term management, regular medication, and systemic support. Most people can’t afford regular insulin. Blood pressure is poorly monitored. And too many only find out they’re sick when they collapse.

Where does Bye Bye Fatman come in?

Yes, I’m a muzungu. And yes, my story started with my own obesity—a product of emotional eating, sedentary life, processed food, and addictive behaviours. I lost weight. I gained it back. I lost it again. I still struggle. Obesity doesn’t care about race or nationality.

But living in Zambia, I’ve seen that my struggle is becoming our struggle.

I talk to people every week—taxi drivers, teachers, parents, friends—who are now battling the same demons I did:
• “My blood pressure is too high.”
• “I’ve been told I’m diabetic.”
• “I don’t want to die young.”

And they’re not lazy. They’re not stupid. They’re victims of a global food system and a social environment that celebrates unhealthy choices.

So what’s the solution?

We need to break the silence.
We need public health campaigns, nutritional education, sugar taxes, accessible healthcare, and open conversations—in the markets, churches, schools, and on social media. And we need to stop shaming people who are struggling with weight. It’s not always about choice. It’s about addiction, trauma, affordability, culture, and survival.

If I could change, so can others. But we have to fight the system, not the person.
Let’s talk about food. Let’s talk about health. Let’s talk about hope.

Africa deserves better. Zambia deserves better. We deserve better.

26/06/2025

There was a time I didn’t believe it was possible. That I was too far gone. Too heavy. Too stuck. Too tired. Too ashamed. But I was wrong. I did change. I have changed. And if you’re reading this and thinking, “That could never be me”, I’m here to tell you—yes, it absolutely could.My weight loss transformation wasn’t just about shedding kilos. It was about shedding pain, old habits, excuses, and a lifetime of self-doubt. I didn’t follow a magic plan. I didn’t have surgery. I didn’t have a personal chef or a fancy gym. What I had was a decision. Then another decision. Then another. Day by day. Step by step.But here’s the part most people don’t talk about.It’s still a struggle.There have been setbacks. I’ve regressed. I’ve put weight back on at times. I’ve felt like a fraud. But I REFUSE to give up. This is not a before-and-after fairytale. This is a lifelong battle for health, happiness, and self-respect.Transformation isn’t a straight line. It’s a messy, beautiful, brutal, empowering journey.And I’m still on it.If you’re on it too, or even just thinking about it, know this: you are not alone. And if you ever feel like giving up, don’t. Not today. Not yet. Just take one more step. That’s what I’m doing. One step, every day. .

Bye Bye Fatman

01/07/2025

01/07/2025

30/06/2025

30/06/2025

29/06/2025

28/06/2025

27/06/2025

27/06/2025

27/06/2025

26/06/2025

Address

Website

Alerts

Contact The Business

Shortcuts

Share

Category