On getting fat, I found that there were quite a few aspects of my former life that I missed. That modest space between myself and any neighbouring passenger on the bus. Being able to walk up minor inclines without sweating. Being able to visit close relatives without them either exclaiming "Wow, when's it due?" or "Wow, how fabulous - twins!"

But what I have missed most is having a choice of clothes, and, in particular, being able to wear trousers. A lot of people don't think twice before pulling on a pair of jeans, shorts or high-waisted culottes (well, this might prompt a moment of pause) but, believe you me, the ability to look good in a simple pair of black trousers is a privilege. Even at my slimmest, I have always found it difficult to buy trousers.

I have a comparatively small waist, and big hips and thighs, a shape that doesn't seem too popular with pattern-cutters. As I put on weight, the task of trouser-buying became impossible. While my waist stayed fairly small, my bottom grew larger and larger and larger, like one of those frightening monster vegetables that wins prizes at town fetes. In fact, I quickly reached the stage at which any trousers big enough to fit my hips would have gaped around my waist like a useless, floppy life belt.

For the past five years, then, I have dreamed of jeans. I have a pair on a shelf in my wardrobe, perfectly folded, perfectly faded. It's just a question of being able to shoehorn them on without copious amounts of Vaseline.

It's often supposed that women diet because they want to be more feminine, more fragile, and more acceptable to men. And it's no wonder, because the item of clothing most associated with dieting is that ultimate man-pleaser: the bikini. For me, though, getting slimmer represents quite the opposite - a chance to wear considerably less feminine clothes. Over the past few years, due to the small waist/ridiculously large bottom scenario, I have had very little choice over what I've worn on my lower half; in fact, only one item has really been tenable: the 50s swing skirt. I have worn these so often that when I once pointed out a fantastic shift dress in a magazine to one of my colleagues, she said, "Oh my God, I'm amazed that you'd like that. You have such a strong personal style, and that doesn't match it at all."

I was flattered that she thought I had a personal style, when all I thought I had was a collection of clothes flung together on the basis that nudity is not an option.

I almost shouted, "I would love to wear shift dresses! And Annie Hall trouser suits. And jeans every day of the week." But I didn't, because that would have led to a conversation about my thighs. And, subsequently, blushing.

The reality is that as you get bigger, your clothing options get much, much smaller. Once you reach a size 16 or more, buying brilliant - or even just marginally attractive - clothes on the high street is markedly more difficult. This is ridiculous. Just because you've gained a few pounds, it doesn't mean that you're any less likely to want clothes that are colourful, exciting, flattering - in fact, buying fantastic clothes that boost your confidence becomes even more of a necessity in the face of rampant anti-fat sentiment. What you're too often faced with is a mountain of frump and I'm convinced that someone could make an absolute killing by setting up a boutique selling clothes in size 16 and above by cutting-edge young designers. There are those who argue that fat people should be stigmatised, that by offering them nothing but ugly tents to wear, they're more likely to lose weight. Actually, the opposite is true. Deprived of easy access to threads that make you feel presentable, finding solace in the fridge is the obvious next step.

Meanwhile, one of the most gratifying aspects of getting slimmer has been ditching the circle skirts. I'm still not weighing myself, and instead I have been pulling on old items of clothing, and seeing how close they are to fitting. There are definitely a few more stone to go before I can heave on those jeans, but the studded denim jacket that makes me look slightly like a crazed fan at an Elvis convention? Well, the day I can don that is drawing tantalisingly close ...