by James Argent
Part of my problem is that I eat when I am bored and it makes me feel good. I can be very greedy with sweets and crisps and I am a regular visitor to petrol stations, where I stock up on snacks. I have a little regime where I pick out the following:
• one packet of crisps (usually Walker’s salt-and-vinegar Squares);
• one chocolate bar (either a Snickers or a Kinder Bueno);
• one packet of chewy sweets (either Haribo or fruit pastilles); and
• one soft drink (such as a Mars milkshake).
I’ll happily purchase all four at once and I’m capable of scoffing the lot in a single session! When I left secondary school I wasn’t much of a hit with the ladies before I met Lydia, and I think I began to comfort-eat. Perhaps I couldn’t see any reason to watch my weight because I didn’t have a girlfriend. I grew to about 18½ stone. While some of my mates were out dating girls, my way of treating myself was with food. I’ve always had lots of friends, so it wasn’t that I was lonely. It was just that I fell into the habit of overeating because it was one of my main sources of pleasure. I love food. If I am feeling low I might cheer myself up with a curry. Unfortunately, if it makes me put on more weight, I’m more likely to feel low again, in which case I eat. It’s a bit of a vicious circle.
My lifestyle after I joined TOWIE has also led to my gaining weight. When I’m out filming at different times it tends to make me eat badly. I find myself snacking in the gaps between filming, and, of course, there are so many scenes filmed in restaurants and bars. It means I consume a fair bit of alcohol, which is packed with calories. The large number of personal appearances that I make in nightclubs also means that I am around booze. All those late nights are when I’m tempted to round off the evening with either a kebab, McDonald’s or a bagel from Brick Lane.
When I manage to slim down, I feel full of energy and enthusiasm. Being a lighter weight is good for my self-confidence. When I am at my heaviest I feel lethargic and lazy and I seem to generally just have far less energy. I’m tempted to just lie in bed longer than I should do and I get tired more easily. It can get sometimes me down, although normally I bounce back pretty quickly and vow to lose some weight.
Being a large size also makes going shopping for clothes a real drag, especially in high street stores. There are times when I simply can’t find anything to buy. I love clothes from shops such as Reiss, Zara and Topman, but I often go into stores and nothing will fit. Many shops go up to only a size 36 waist, whereas, when I am at my heaviest, I am size 40.
Even the XL sizes occasionally won’t fit, which pisses me off. There are so many nice clothes that I would like to wear but they’re just not available in my size. Even when I can squeeze into them they often don’t suit me. I normally have a clear idea of what I would like to wear and which outfits match, but when I try them on they just don’t look right and that makes me feel pretty bad at times. I hate going shopping with friends because they always get all the nice bits and pieces while I am left scraping around!
There have been times when my weight has led to some very funny situations. Apart from the constant banter on TOWIE (where everyone always takes great delight in the fact that I can twitch my man boobs), I also get a lot of requests from magazines to take part in diet features. On one occasion my manager, Neil, received a phone call from a newspaper supplement.
‘We’d like to invite Arg to lose some weight with our help. It’s for a big feature in the magazine,’ they explained.
The plan was for me to be weighed and photographed for an article that would record my vital statistics and explain to readers that I was going on a carefully controlled diet. The magazine meticulously planned everything so that over the next few months I would have a menu and fitness regime that was designed to help me lose weight in a healthy way. I would then be weighed and photographed again so that they could compare the difference. When I went in for the first picture shoot they were eager to explain how committed I would need to be.
‘You must follow our advice very closely, Arg. It’s important that you stick to the regime,’ they urged.
I was assigned a dietician and a personal trainer to help me and I went away full of good intentions. As the weeks went by I did my best to do everything they told me, but I slipped on many occasions and I probably had the odd sneaky trip to McDonald’s. At the end of an agreed period of time, the magazine was planning to do a ‘big reveal’ article in which I would show off my new slimmed-down body to the cameras.
‘We can’t wait to see how much you’ve lost,’ they told me.
I knew I had struggled, so I wasn’t looking forward to the big reveal. When I went along to the studio and stood on the scales it was a disaster.
‘Er, Arg, you’ve actually gained weight!’ they told me.
I was horribly embarrassed and full of apologies. My manager now says I am the only person in the history of weight-loss articles who has managed to put several pounds on! The magazine quietly dropped the feature. (I later took part in a similar feature for a different magazine, Men’s Health, and on that occasion I did manage to lose two stone, so at least I learned my lesson.)
I am also often approached by companies asking me to endorse special diets and slimming products. I’m sometimes willing to give them a try, although that, too, can lead to some funny situations. There was one occasion when I’d been trying out a new type of diet. Things were coming along OK, so I’d arranged to meet a couple of executives from the company to discuss things further. They agreed to travel to Woodford near where I live and I planned to meet them after lunch. I was feeling very hungry that morning, so before the meeting I slipped out to my local carvery restaurant. My appetite was ferocious, so I piled onto my plate a huge mound of roast potatoes and Yorkshire puddings. I was greedily tucking into my banquet when another disaster struck.
‘Er, hello, Arg – I think we’re due to meet you later,’ I heard somebody say as they approached my table.
I looked up to discover that it was the diet people. They’d arrived early and had popped into the restaurant to kill some time. I’d been caught stuffing my face while I was supposed to be on a diet!
When I split from Lydia it was one of those occasions when I piled on a lot of weight. I was in bad shape both emotionally and physically. I went through a period when I just couldn’t be motivated to get out of bed. I’d spend time locked away in my room with the curtains drawn. I literally did not want to leave the house. If ever there was a time when I ate for comfort, this was it. I gorged myself on fast food and I would make constant trips to the fridge for snacks. My mum and dad were worried about me and they did all they could to help by showing me love and support. My friends in TOWIE, especially Joey, Diags and Tom, were also there for me when I needed them, and I slowly began to get over the heartache of losing Lydia. I needed a new challenge.
What I want is something to motivate me and take my mind off Lydia, I thought.
It was around this time that my manager received a call from the charity Cancer Research to enquire if I would be willing to run in the London Marathon on their behalf.
‘James obviously makes a lot of press coverage because of his weight, so it would be amazing publicity for us,’ they explained.
Despite my aversion to most sports, running is one of the few physical activities that I quite enjoy. My dad had run a half-marathon when he was younger, so it’s probably a bit of a family trait. The more I thought about doing the London Marathon, the more I thought it was a fantastic idea.
Cancer Research is a cause that had been close to my heart ever since Granddad Seamus died from cancer. It would mean a lot to me to be able to raise some money in his memory. Cancer is a terrible condition that affects millions of families, including my own. If I could run the Marathon, not only would I be achieving something truly amazing, but I’d also be helping others. It also seemed like the perfect project to take my mind off Lydia, while also motivating me to lose some weight. In fact, I imagined that
I would lose a lot of weight through all the training that it would involve. I agreed to meet with Cancer Research.
‘We have to be sure that you’re serious about doing the Marathon. This is a big responsibility,’ they explained.
Despite my previous poor track record with diet-and-exercise projects, I was determined to make a go of things. I wouldn’t be running just for me: there was a charity at stake – and I knew that hopefully, somewhere, Granddad Seamus would be watching over me. To complete the London Marathon in his memory would mean a great deal to my family. I reassured the people from Cancer Research that I was fully committed.
I knew that the challenge I faced was enormous. I’d left it very late to sign up and there were only six weeks in which to train before the race (ideally, training lasts six months). I tipped the scales at 18½ stone, so I had a lot of lost time to make up for. It was at the back of my mind that my asthma might be a factor, but as I’ve grown older I’ve become better at learning to control it. I was hopeful that, if I could run at my own pace, the asthma wouldn’t be a problem.
Joey Essex was one of the first people I told, and he promised to support me, although at first he couldn’t quite believe it and he reacted with his usual good banter.
‘Are you serious, Arg? That’s a long way to run, man. Don’t you have to do special training and stuff like that?’ he said.
‘Well, I’ll need to train, but anyone can enter,’ I replied.
‘Yeah, but a chubby boy like you – how are you going to get around the course?’ he said.
‘It’s all official. I’m doing it for Cancer Research.’
‘Yeah, but what if you collapse like a blob?’ he smiled.
I laughed. ‘I won’t collapse. Will you come along and support me on the day?’
‘Yeah, of course I will. I’ll be there to cheer you on and give you a bit of first aid if you need it,’ he joked.
When it was announced in public that I would be taking part in the London Marathon it caused a bit of a firestorm on Twitter. A lot of people were angry because there is so much competition for places and they saw me as somebody who was jumping the queue because I am on TV.
‘You are taking the piss. You don’t deserve a place and you won’t even make an effort,’ they ranted at me.
Some of the messages I received were very irate. Some members of the public thought I was an overweight bloke who had no chance of reaching the finishing line. People were saying that I would end up like Jade Goody, who had been forced to pull out of the race after collapsing in 2006. Quite a few people were of the view that I wouldn’t even turn up on the day.
Things went from bad to worse when some photos of me eating junk food appeared on a newspaper website. It sent out the wrong message and one of the race directors from Virgin, who sponsor the Marathon, called my manager to ask if I was putting in the proper effort. They were worried that, if I failed to show up or collapsed on the day, it would be a PR disaster. I also made the mistake of sending out a tweet during the early days of training in which I hinted that I’d not been doing enough exercise.
‘Arg, if there is any more bad publicity like this then the organisers are going to ask you to give up your place,’ my manager Neil told me.
All the fuss only made me all the more determined to prove everyone wrong. I think the only people who really believed that I would complete it were the representatives from Cancer Research, because they’d seen how serious I had been.
During my six weeks I really threw myself into the training. Two other members of the TOWIE cast, Cara Kilbey and Billi Mucklow, were taking part. They are both naturally slim and athletic. Cara is a good runner and Billi is a yoga teacher, so they were in a very different position from mine. I went on a training run with them and I could see that they were much fitter than I was, but I didn’t let it worry me.
I would run at least five miles a day and sometimes all the way from my home in Woodford Greed to the outskirts of Epping and back, which is a round trip of close to ten miles. I eventually managed to knuckle down to a healthy diet.
I also went off to a fitness camp in Norfolk called No1 Boot Camp. It was run by a company that a lot of the TOWIE cast use when they want to get in shape. All your meals are provided in a healthy fashion and their fitness facilities are excellent. The company that owns the centre also operates a boot camp in Marbella. I was between filming at the time, so, in addition to going to Norfolk, I thought it would be a great idea to also go out to Spain to do a bit of training. I didn’t fancy going alone, so I asked Joey if he’d agree to come along.
‘Come on, Joey, we’ll have a great time,’ I said.
We flew out to Spain together and checked into the boot camp, which consisted of an amazing complex in Marbella. The accommodation was made up of basic wooden chalets with two sets of bunk beds per room. They were clean and comfy. There was a fully equipped boxing gym, plus a normal gym with weights and all the latest apparatus. Outside, there was a swimming pool and a huge assault course. It was the perfect setting to train for a marathon.
While I was out in Spain something very strange and unexpected happened, and it concerned Gemma Collins. When I checked into the boot camp I asked the owner if anybody else was due to stay there that week. It was a regular haunt for TOWIE cast members so the chances are that you often bump into people who you know.
‘Gemma Collins is due to arrive tomorrow,’ the women at the front desk told me.
Joey and I had a good giggle. We obviously both knew Gemma from TOWIE and we were aware that she’s quite a character. She’d previously said on the show that she’d fancied me during a game of truth or dare. I’d laughed it off because I had been dating Lydia at the time and I just didn’t see Gemma in that way. In fact, I thought she could be quite annoying. She can be very loud and forthright with her opinions, so I was fully expecting her to shatter the peace and quiet we were looking forward to. However, there are two sides to Gemma’s personality. She is big and bubbly and socially she can be great company. We’d often have a good bit of banter whenever we appeared on screen together.
During boot camp we were awoken at 6.30 a.m. for a training session at 7 a.m. Breakfast was at 8 a.m. and consisted of something wholesome and energetic such as porridge (just what you need when you are training for a marathon). The rest of the day was spent doing various fitness regimes designed to get you in tiptop condition. The food was delicious. It was always very healthy and well prepared by the chefs, but it left me wanting more because the portions were deliberately controlled. During the evenings there was a cinema room where you could relax after a hard day.
Gemma arrived the day after Joey and I had, and we said our hellos. She was in good spirits and was out there to enjoy a bit of a break and to get into shape before the next series of TOWIE. One of the activities that we all took part in together was climbing La Concha, a mountain peak that overlooks Marbella. It was a hard physical slog that involved walking up some very steep slopes and at times having to use your hands and feet to clamber over rocks. Joey and I both got to the summit and we were very proud of ourselves. Gemma didn’t quite make it to the top, so she missed out on some breathtaking scenery: you could see all the way across the Mediterranean and catch a glimpse of the African coastline in the distance.
Meanwhile, it turned out that Gemma was quite pleasant company in Marbella and we got along very well. She wasn’t annoying at all. On our last night something happened between Gemma and me that came completely out of the blue.
I was about to get a complete shock.
We’d all decided to go down to Puerto Banús on our last evening at boot camp. Gemma and some of the other girls from the centre came along and we had a few drinks down by the port. Joey and I then got separated from the rest of the group and we went off for a drink at Linekers Bar, where we met an old acquaintance who was the part-owner of a lap-dancing establishment. We got chatting and he invited us into his club.
‘Shall we go along, Joe
y?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, come on, then. It’ll be sick,’ Joey replied.
By now we were both a bit drunk and were shown into the lap-dancing bar. It was dark and there was a main stage area with a pole for women to dance around. We were like a pair of giggly schoolboys. I’d never been inside a place where the women were all walking around half naked. I’m pretty sure Joey felt the same way, but we both behaved ourselves. There was a strict rule that you could look but not touch, and we both adhered to it like gentlemen. The owner of the bar treated us to a lap dance on the house and we sat there as a pair of gorgeous women waggled their boobs and their bums in front of us. It was harmless fun, but God only knows what the paparazzi would have made of it if they could have got a glimpse.
By the time we arrived back at boot camp that evening I’d forgotten all about Gemma. Joey and I were both slightly the worse for wear and he went off to look for someone in one of the other chalets, where I assumed he’d crashed out asleep. When I entered our chalet three of the bunk beds were empty but in my bed there was an uninvited guest.
It was Gemma.
Alone.
In my bed.
It struck me as a little strange, but in my boozy state I didn’t question it too much. I just assumed she’d either gone into the wrong room or maybe she had just popped in for a late-night chat and fallen asleep. I was in a merry mood so I climbed into the bunk next to her and gave her a little cuddle.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I asked her playfully.
‘Oh, hello, Arg. Did you have a good night out?’ she asked sleepily.
I don’t remember her giving me any explanation as to why she was in my bed, but I do recall a bit of laughing and giggling. Then I felt Gemma’s hand start to wander down below the sheets.