Morbidly obese people could be given disability status in the workplace if a ruling at the European court of justice (ECJ) goes as expected this week.

I know from personal experience that finding a good job in the current economic climate is difficult; finding one when you are morbidly obese (with a BMI of more than 40) is so much harder. Employers may equate your excess weight with a lazy lifestyle. You may have a great CV and personality to match, but chances are you will be at an automatic disadvantage.

A study conducted by the University of Tübingen in 2012 showed that overweight people have a harder time finding work – with fat women experiencing the most discrimination. Researcher Ansgar Thiel said: “Only 2% of those surveyed matched the obese women in ... pictures with a prestigious profession. And only about 6% of respondents thought that they would be among the final choices for the head of department position.” Equality for women in the workplace and politics is still an issue. The extra pounds are another obstacle to overcome.

I have been the fat applicant, and have always done everything in my power to divert attention away from my weight. My CV is tailored to contradict the stereotypes associated with obesity. A postgraduate degree, extracurricular activities and physical hobbies convey a personality that is driven to succeed rather than given to sitting on a couch and bingeing on chocolate.

On paper I look great, but the main hurdle is always the interview. Being shown around office buildings by a light-footed potential boss while struggling to keep up, look interested and ask questions is a challenge. When I managed to get my current job as a manager at a prestigious business school, I was surprised. I had assumed my size was going to cost me work.

Initially things went well, but soon my obesity began to cause serious problems in the office environment. Being invited to meetings made me despair. I knew I might not fit into the chair provided, and to perch on the end of it for hours while trying to act assertively is not easy. Simple tasks such as helping to carry something also became a chore. My pride meant I did not admit it was because of a physical problem, and as a result I’m sure there were some who felt I was not pulling my weight – but the problem was, I literally couldn’t any more. I envied my colleagues and wished I could take movement for granted, as they did. My aunt died from complications owing to morbid obesity in her early 50s, and I knew the same fate awaited me – and probably sooner.

Eventually I was forced to seek out bariatric surgery (a gastric sleeve procedure that permanently removes 80% of your stomach). The thought of having it done terrified me initially. Life would never be the same. But the support I had from family, friends and colleagues was overwhelming. The latter got to know my long history of weight-loss attempts and about how the problem was prevalent and as yet “uncured” on both sides of my family.

Undergoing this surgery – with all the fear and change that came with it – was one of the hardest things I have ever done. The situation I was putting myself in demanded courage, emotional and physical strength and I wasn’t sure how much I had left of any of them.

Now on the other side of the operation, I find my life has been transformed. In the space of two months I have lost five stone. Although weight loss is what my body needs, it feels like a massive trauma, and my energy levels fluctuate dramatically. Interestingly, as the numbers on the scales have fallen I have sensed a newfound respect and curiosity emerging from my peers. Ironically, I get invited out to dinner more often than before, although these days I pick at my food like a bird instead of devouring it. People often ask very specific questions about my surgery, and sometimes admit to inquiring on behalf of a loved one with a similar issue. Bariatric surgery was a good option for me. But I recognise that this radical intervention cannot be a general, sustainable solution for what has become an epidemic in much of the world.

The decision about whether to classify severe obesity as a disability will be controversial whichever way it goes. If people are given disability status then employers will have to make provisions that were previously not expected of them. That would benefit many, but could also end up deterring companies from hiring obese applicants. If the ECJ rules the other way, however, an increasing number of people will not be able to participate in the workforce. Morbid obesity is on the rise in Europe. In the UK at least 1 in 40 fall into that category and this number has tripled in a decade. In the UK, 64% of adults are classed as overweight or obese.

I certainly believe I could have benefited from disability status. It would have made my work life easier to manage and more harmonious. There’s no denying the fact that my problems were physical, and required a really significant medical intervention to put things right.

Perhaps we need to reframe the argument over the status of obesity, so often couched in moral terms, as a practical question. You could argue that many illnesses have been brought on by lifestyle choices but this does not change the reality of a debilitating condition. My problem – whether you believe it was brought on by lack of self-control or you perhaps recognise the danger lurking in a culture and economy that does its best to encourage the consumption of sugary, fatty foods – was one that stymied my potential, and could have killed me. Many others must be in the same situation. And that’s a tragic waste.