Don't take your diet too far
It was December 31st 2000, and as I gathered with my family and friends to ring in the New Year, I made the same silent resolution that I’d been making for years. Please let this be the year I kick bulimia.
And as the corks popped and streamers flew, I ran a nervous hand over my swollen belly, where my first child was gently cooking. What damage have I done to you already?
By January 2nd bulimia nervosa had yanked me backwards into its degrading cycle of bingeing, vomiting and starving, and I feared for myself and my unborn child.
Most of us worry about our weight to some extent. In a world obsessed with outward appearance it’s hard not too. But for a growing number of both women and men, food and weight represent far more than just a number on the scales; an enemy, an obsession which left untreated, can have devastating consequences, both psychologically and physically.
For me the problems started when I gained weight at puberty, and by the time I was fourteen I hated the way I looked.
The all-girls school I attended served as a hot-house for eating disorders, the corridors echoed with whispers of Sarah losing a stone by throwing-up after every meal, or Carol starving herself all day then eating just a bowl of cornflakes before she went to bed. These skinny girls swept past, revered and envied by the plump and the plain.