Hello.

I’m the Binge Eating Blogger.

At 22 years old, I have been fat for as long as I can remember. Or at least I thought I was always fat. Its only now time has passed and I have gained weight that I look back on my time at Secondary School and realise I was never fat then. But people made me believe I was fat. I guess that’s where this all started.

One thing that I know for sure, is that I have an unhealthy relationship with food. That IS one thing that has been present for as long as I can remember.

Gradually over the years I have gained a lot of weight. I’d like to think I am one of those people with a genetic predisposition to gain weight. My dad is overweight, as is my paternal aunt and paternal grandfather. On my mums side there’s one or two people overweight, but not heavily. My brother is healthy. All the time I wish that I was born with the same body shape as his. But I wasn’t. And it sucks.

I’m not the sporty type. I did dance when I was younger a couple of times but dropped out. Then I had some riding lessons one birthday but my mum couldn’t afford to pay, and my dad – well, he wasn’t going to pay. It makes me sad to think about it because not only was it something I loved (I mean, it was that type of excitement that makes your teeth chatter and your body go all shaky with adrenaline) but it was something that would have kept me active. I could probably go on making excuses as to why I am overweight and that girl everyone in the family calls Lazy. But that’s what it is, I AM lazy. And I like to eat. A lot.

I’ve been binge eating since I was about 14. Probably why I have put on about 6 stone since then. I manged to loose a little for my prom but then i gained it all back and then some. It peaked at university.

In the January before my final exams I was told I needed a gastric band. Not by a doctor. Not by someone close to me. By my boyfriends stepdad. That one comment slammed my confidence to the ground and shattered it into a 1000 pieces. I’m not sure how long after but within a month I had taken to sticking my fingers down my throat. It make an issue. I would do it daily. Sometimes up to 10 times a day. I wanted to make myself thin but because of the binge eating beforehand, I was just bringing up the crisps, ice cream cakes etc that I had wolfed down before.

After a month, I told my best friend. She came with me to my doctors. I was prescribed antidepressants and referred to a psychiatrist for an assessment. I was diagnosed with Bulimia Nervosa.

Thankfully after I finished my exams, the huge amount of pressure that was crushing me – quite literally – was lifted. The Bulimia sort of went away. I came off my meds (which were the highest dose they were allowed to give) without consultation. Probably a stupid idea but I didn’t feel like I needed them. I had the best summer of my life travelling around South East Asia. I met so many wonderful people and made friends with travelers from across the world. I bathed with elephants, zip-lined across the jungle and swam from beach to beach.

I was on such a high when I came back and trips to Australia and New York followed. My boyfriend moved in. A string of happy and exciting events kept me on a high. But like anyone with a mental illness, you can get lulled into a false sense of security.

I thought I was pretty happy. I suppose I am. But I get these niggling feelings sometimes. I don’t hear voices. Its my own voice. I think it might be a good idea to make myself sick so I don’t take on those calories I just consumed. I made myself sick for the first time in a long time at the end of July. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

I was out in a bar with friends on Friday. I’d gone into the toilets and I was sat in the cubicle and I heard a girl throwing up in the next one along. Then I heard her friend actually say ‘Everyone knows a tactical chunder clears you out so you can keep going all night. Plus it gets rid of your bloat. I was starting to look about 6 months preggers’. Seed planted. I didn’t want to do it. I worked myself up so much I had to leave. My boyfriend came and got me. I could barely breathe.

That’s what brings me to today.

It’s a Monday afternoon. I’m sat at my desk after eating a sandwich. Followed by the biggest slice of carrot cake. I should have cut it in half. But I didn’t. Because that’s me. That’s not my first thought. My first thought is ‘I’ll eat it upside down so I save all the buttery icing until the end’. Only I get halfway through and start to feel sick. Probably due to the fact that I also bought a sausage roll. I ate that in the car though.

I’m sat here trying to work out if I can be quiet enough to make myself sick at work. I’d managed to perfect it before. I’m out of practice now. I’ll probably gag so hard everyone will hear my retching. I’m weighing it up. It’s a constant battle I have with myself.

It’s taken me a while to write this. It probably means my lunch has probably gone down already.

Welcome to my blog. Welcome to my distraction.

L x

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