I had an 88% chance of getting breast cancer, so took control and had a double mastectomy at 31, Becky Excell reveals

PUSHING my meal around the plate, I sat at the table in the eating disorder unit, lost in unhappiness.

In treatment for anorexia, this was where I spent my days, returning home in the evenings, before more therapy sessions and group meals with other unwell women.

Hannah Rose Hughes

Becky Excell was diagnosed with anorexia in 2013 after her weight plummeted from 11st to 5st[/caption]

If you’d told that sad, isolated young girl that she’d one day have a career as a food content creator, with over 400k followers on Instagram, she’d have thought it ridiculous. 

I grew up in Colchester, Essex, and lived with my parents Steve, now 67, and Sue, 63, and younger brother Charlie, 29. Life was pretty uneventful until I went to study law at the University of Manchester. 

Aged 18 and away from home, family and my boyfriend Mark, now 36, for the first time, I really struggled. I was a naturally introverted, quiet teenager, and I didn’t find it easy to make friends.

I felt lonely and unsure of myself, and social media only convinced me that everyone else was having an amazing time. I felt like I was failing at life and that I didn’t fit in.

I dropped out of uni in Manchester, and over the next few years, I enrolled on courses in Sussex, then in Essex.

Looking back, I see now how those years of instability and anxiety saw me subconsciously seek some way of regaining control, which manifested as an eating disorder.

Soon, I began to restrict what I ate, followed by huge binges, and I’d obsessively exercise as much as six hours a day. It’s painful to remember how unhappy I was, and how worried Mark and my family were about me as I lost more and more weight.

In 2013 – the year I graduated uni – I was diagnosed with anorexia, after my weight plummeted from 11st to 5st, far too low for my 5ft 7in height. After that, my recovery began.

I became a day patient at an eating disorder unit, but what really helped were sessions with a psychotherapist, and my straight-talking GP, who told me I could be sectioned if I didn’t gain weight. 

Around that time, as anorexia’s grip on me began to ease, Mark and I moved in together and I started a blog about being gluten-free. In 2009, I’d removed gluten from my diet, on the advice of my GP, as I was suffering from excruciating stomach pains.

Although tests for coeliac disease a few months later came back negative – perhaps not surprisingly given I’d already excluded gluten – I knew how much better I felt without it. 

Back then, there were fewer gluten-free options compared to now, so I began to create my own recipes for meals like a KFC “fakeaway” or a katsu curry, and share them online. It felt good to develop a positive relationship with food again.

As my blog grew, I was conscious how easy it would be to fall into old habits. I was mindful to avoid looking at calories on ingredients and tried to keep my thoughts healthy. Plus, I was open with my followers about my past. I wasn’t ashamed of it – in fact, I was proud of how far I’d come.

My blog was a hobby while I worked full-time in PR and marketing. But as my online following grew, I felt torn trying to do both. I was working with brands, spending hours in the kitchen coming up with new recipes, and earning money through advertising and collaborations.

In 2017, I took a leap of faith to make creating content my career. I felt incredibly nervous and didn’t tell my parents for six months, as I knew they’d worry about me walking away from a stable job. 

My first cookbook, How To Make Anything Gluten Free, was released in 2021, my social media channels grew and life was good – until I was hit by a bombshell.

Hannah Rose Hughes

After a cousin on my dad’s side tested positive for the BRCA2 gene mutation – which increases the risk of a number of cancers – Dad was also tested. He was told he had the gene, meaning there was a 50% chance I did, too.

I knew immediately that I wanted to be tested. If I had an increased risk of developing cancer, I wanted to know and do something about it. After counselling to prepare me mentally if I tested positive, I learned I carried the gene.

It’s shocking to be told you’re carrying around a ticking time bomb. Nothing can prepare you for it. I was told I had an 88% chance of developing breast cancer, as well as being at elevated risk of ovarian cancer.

After my previous experience of being controlled by a disease, I decided that this time, I would be the one in control. So, in May 2022, I had a double mastectomy and reconstruction.

Soon, I began to restrict what I ate, followed by huge binges, and I’d obsessively exercise as much as six hours a day.

It’s strange being wheeled in for major surgery when you’re completely well, knowing your body will be irreversibly changed, but I felt empowered rather than scared. My overwhelming emotion when I came round was relief.

The support I’d had from my online community had really buoyed me, and being in a stable relationship with a man who loved me, no matter what, helped too. 

That was two years ago, but my BRCA2 journey isn’t over. Doctors have said I should have my ovaries removed by 40, which means the clock is ticking if I want to have a family. But it’s not straightforward – there’s a 50% chance I’d pass the BRCA2 gene on to my child, and I don’t want to do that, so I’ll need IVF, with my eggs screened before fertilisation.

There are, of course, no guarantees that fertility treatment will give us a family. 

I have moments of feeling angry that, after all I’ve been through, I still have this ahead of me, as well as more surgery which will trigger an early menopause. But there’s no point dwelling on it. For now, my focus is on my career.

Last year, I won BBC Food Digital Creator Of The Year. I’m also an ambassador for Coeliac UK and I’m releasing my sixth cookbook, Gluten Free Air Fryer, next month. 

Life is busy, and there’s pressure as an influencer to always be “on”, which is hard as I’m still naturally a quiet person who prefers nights at home with Mark over showbiz parties.

But when you’ve been to rock-bottom – and found your way back from it – you appreciate every opportunity to live life to the full. And I plan to keep doing that.