Gary Barlow appears to be someone you might walk by in a supermarket without giving him a second look in a recently discovered, purportedly unpublished photo. No epiphany. Don’t look twice. Just a man wearing regular clothes, bearing the burden of a life that is quietly collapsing. That invisibility wasn’t a coincidence for Barlow. That was the whole idea.
Gary Barlow’s weight gain in the years after Take That’s 1995 split is one of those celebrity stories that, until you hear him explain it in his own words, seems nearly unintelligible. He didn’t put on weight because he had neglected himself or because his celebrity had made him carefree and at ease. He put on weight consciously, methodically, and, according to him, with a sort of somber relief. His street recognition decreased as he consumed more food. And after everything he’d been through, it felt liberating to be unnoticed.
One of the key pop acts of the early 1990s was Take That. Barlow was the band’s main songwriter, the one who was taken seriously by the industry and who was expected to succeed after the band broke up. That’s not exactly how it turned out. The group member who had been kicked out, Robbie Williams, managed to turn bad luck into a career that was hard to ignore. Rock DJ. Angels. A millennium. Chart position after chart position. Barlow watched it all and recently acknowledged that he was overcome with jealousy at the time. “I was incredibly competitive,” he remarked. “How will I spend the remainder of my life? Because that’s the end of music for now.” The majority of people who read that now might find it easier to relate to than they anticipated.
It wasn’t a smooth descent after that. Barlow ceased to leave his home. The longest period was six months, during which Robbie stayed inside and avoided the streets where strangers would yell his name at him, avoiding the unique cruelty of being well-known enough to be recognized but not well-known enough to be respected. He began eating, first as a means of consolation, then more as a tactic. He loaded his plate at Chinese buffets and left for home. He made himself ill by going to the farthest corner of the house from his wife’s bed. He has stated that this continued for a few years.
He said something at the 2018 Cheltenham Literature Festival that has stuck in the minds of onlookers ever since. “By the time I hit 17th 2lbs I was unrecognisable,” he told the audience, “and in heaven, because no one recognised me.” This line is devastating. The word “heaven” is more important than the weight figure, even though reaching 109 kg is noteworthy in and of itself. The idea that someone could be at their happiest, most relieved, and most physically ill at the same time is the kind of contradiction that shouldn’t be included in a press release. It belongs in a very honest memoir or in the office of a therapist.
These images and admissions have resurfaced in public discourse thanks to the recently released Netflix documentary, and it’s interesting to see how people respond to them. Clearly, there is sympathy. However, there’s also a sense of surprise, as if people haven’t yet realized how serious this time was. Men’s eating disorders are still strangely underreported because, as Barlow noted, women have been much more forthcoming about their struggles, while men have traditionally lacked the same vocabulary or consent. It is not a press strategy for him to put a certain number on the scales, display the pictures, and talk about being ill while standing in a corner while his wife slept somewhere else. Someone has decided that the story is finally worthy of being told in its entirety.
Barlow has mentioned having what he refers to as an internal “stop button” that kept his patterns from becoming ingrained. With typical understatement, he attributes it to the fact that he never became dependent on alcohol or other drugs. It did take him longer than he would have liked to overcome the eating disorder. But in the end, it did. After gathering himself, he lost about five stones and revived a music career that most people had disregarded. When the return did occur, it was genuine.
According to his own account, he currently weighs about twelve stones. In comparison to the person he presents today—a calm, professional man who composes songs for royal occasions and judges television talent competitions—the photos from his most intense time still seem startling. However, the more intriguing narrative resides in the space between those two pictures. The years in between are more important than the weight loss itself, which is a sort of tabloid shorthand. The buffets. The shadows of a big house. The silent choice that it was preferable to be invisible than to be noticed.
Looking back at all of this, it’s difficult to ignore the fact that Barlow has always been more nuanced than the part he was given. The steady one. The serious one. The one who was meant to be successful. Sometimes the person who appears to be the most organized is actually carrying a literal weight, and other times they are working hard to keep things together.
FAQs
Q1. How much did Gary Barlow weigh at his heaviest?
He reached 17 stone 2lbs (approximately 109 kilograms) during his worst period.
Q2. Why did Gary Barlow intentionally gain weight?
He used weight gain to become unrecognisable and escape public humiliation on the street.
Q3. What eating disorder did Gary Barlow suffer from?
He struggled with bulimia and binge eating disorder for around two years.
Q4. How much does Gary Barlow weigh now?
He lost roughly five stone and currently weighs around 12 stone.
Q5. What triggered Gary Barlow’s weight gain and mental health struggles?
Robbie Williams’ enormous solo success after Take That’s split consumed Barlow with jealousy.
