I spoke too soon when it came to the eating. Fucked that up big time. In the end all I had left in the house was some chocolate soya milk, so I drank that and threw it back up. Finally I slept, surrounded by takeaway boxes, feeling exhausted and disgusting.

I find eating even harder to write about than sex. I’m so ashamed of it, especially ashamed of it now that I am overweight. It’s not a problem all the time, but when it’s a problem it’s a disaster. My last episode went on for days and was hard to recover from.This morning I feel both bloated and hungry, and when I think about feeding myself for the rest of my life, I despair.

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