I remember crying because I was so full, not being able to sleep because my tummy was so bloated. I look back on that time and that person like it was someone else.
My digestive system hated me, I felt constantly sluggish and ate food to help me feel better (it didn’t in case you wondered). The main arguments within my relationship were about food and money, we couldn’t afford to sustain my appetite. My priority was eating.
I made enormous portions not caring how good it tasted or how nutritious it was and expecting everyone to eat it and enjoy it, and was severely disappointed if that didn’t happen.
I cooked with double cream, butter, oil and full fat everything. When I wasn’t cooking I was ordering takeaway 3-4 times a week, if L said no I would be huffy… Writing this is beyond embarrassing, I sound like a spoiled fat child.
I’m embarrassed by the way I felt, what I ate and how I behaved. I was like a drug addict but with food. However, when I overdosed on food I just threw it up to make room for more or to make myself feel less uncomfortable. I look back and shake my head in dismay at that girl and I wish she wasn’t so sad.
At university sitting in wooden seats would leave me with bruises, I didn’t want to socialize. Because I wanted to eat, I would pretend I hadn’t eaten (who was I kidding) and buy food at uni, then buy a boots meal deal on my way home and eat it before I got in.
My confidence was through the floor, any time I spent with the few friends I had always ended in some kind of food based event. I sweated profusely and even walking up two flights of stairs left me severely out of breath as my friends breezed past me, my fake confidence hiding the shattering feeling inside.
To combat this, I hid myself away, if I wasn’t working or at uni, I was at home….eating. I turned down any social gatherings. I rarely invited people round. I just wanted to sit and eat in my pjs hidden away from the world.
My past memories are what keep me motivated, I never want to feel like that again.
Love Sooz x