Overcoming binge eating, a personal account

I WROTE this last year and it appeared in a newspaper. I thought I would share it here too as people have got in touch and asked if we could please include eating disorders. I hope my frank account may be of interest.

MY fingers tremble as I unwrap the KitKat. It’s my fourth in two minutes and it won’t be my last.
Two bites and it’s gone. It doesn’t touch the sides. I devour the chocolate like there’s no tomorrow.
My mind is gripped with shame, but the compulsion to keep on chomping is stronger. I feel a bit giddy, verging on ill. I’m light headed, almost in a trance.
But still this feels right, it’s what I’m used to. Stood in my kitchen in my three-bed semi, I’m Mrs Average, tucking into an ‘average’ binge at 7 o clock on a Monday night. Up until now today has been a ‘good day’ - three light meals and a couple of snacks - fresh fruit, wholemeal toast for breakfast - wasn’t I good? Then Ryvita for lunch and stir-fry for tea.
Perhaps I have deprived myself too much.

The feelings of guilt are welling up even as I reach for my next chocolate bar. Now I’m crying too. God, how stupid can I be? Shovelling chocolate down my neck while my daughters are at Brownies and my partner’s at the gym.

I’m distressed and out of control.

A voice in my head tells me I’m disgusting Where’s my willpower? I don’t know, perhaps I never had any. I never could resist a cake, that’s what turned me into this overweight ‘mess’ in the  first place.
The guilt of the binge spurs me on so that my revulsion at what I’m eating makes me eat more.
On autopilot, I gorge on mouthful after mouthful - and packet after packet.

I must have snaffled enough calories to nourish a family of four.

Then comes more shame. I am so weak. The prospect of making myself sick doesn’t enter my head - this isn’t that sort of eating disorder - this is chaotic consumption,  compulsive pigging out and I only have myself to blame.

I’ve been doing this for years, ten to be precise. Since I last left a slimming club.  I’d lost four stone but then my daughters came along. At home with baby twins in a new town, I sought solace in the biscuit cupboard as they cried and my partner was on night shift.

The thought of telling anyone was a complete non-starter. I’m confident, I’m happy, aren’t I? Why let anyone know about this secret shame? It’s not like it’s an accepted eating disorder - I weigh as much as two Kylie Minogues for God’s sake - nobody would have understood  how a fattie like me has a ‘problem’ with food.
And I’ve also used food as a crutch. It’s a pretty obvious one if you look at me.

In the last three years, our family has faced my partner’s repeated job losses and the news that he had skin cancer. He’s clear now. My solution? Hit the chip shop and have a biscuit or six.

But I’m also cunning. I hide the wrappers, there’s a tear in my eye as I grab a layer of rubbish in my kitchen bin and skilfully balance the evidence beneath it. That’s me, a 41-year-old mother of two, a company director messing around with the pathetic remains of a chocolate and crisps frenzy, shoving some fish skin out of the way to make room.

Shocked and appalled, my tears flow freely.  I’m not sobbing for me, I’m despairing at the thought of the hurt seeing me like this would cause. This discovery would be unbearable for my parents, partner, my daughters and my friends - all those gorgeous people who care so much for this outwardly confident, loving and dare I say it,  successful woman.

They’d be devastated that I could do this to myself. But would they be surprised? I doubt it really, why else do they think I have got so fat when I have been supposedly ‘watching my weight’ ever since my daughters were born? I don’t overeat at mealtimes so how else could the pounds have piled on?

But outwardly, my family life, with fellow journalist Dave, 41, and twin daughters is now blissful. My working life is great - so why on earth am I doing this? I have no real reason, just a tiny amount of stress, this time it’s ridiculous, I’m worried the guests at my uncle’s golden wedding party will say they don’t recognise me because I’ve put so much weight on. As triggers go, it’s hardly earth shattering.

And how can I be so selfish? What about all the people with ‘proper problems’ - those who are losing their livelihoods, their homes or even their loved ones thanks to the credit crunch? They are deserving of our sympathy - not the greedy fat woman filling her face behind closed doors. I beat myself up more for thinking for an instant that my ‘problem’ is worth anyone bothering about. I’m sucked further into the destructive cycle and fight the voices in my head to get out of it.

I’ve considered counselling in the past, have thought about ‘coming clean’ but I never found the courage. I was just too ashamed.

The next morning, I’m still miserable. I don’t want to be pulled wholly back into a ‘deprive yourself, binge, feel worse,’ routine, I’ve been there too often, for at least a quarter of my life. I have to break free. The first step is to eat healthily on this new day. I must be kinder to myself. Food has been my crutch through some tough times - looking after baby twins, family cancer and redundancy. How can I turn my back on my old friend the chocolate bar?

But this two-faced friend has also got me where I am today - now four stone overweight. At my biggest, I reached 16 stone, my size 22 coat straining at the chest and my rare visits to the shops for new clothes leaving me in tears. I don’t look in the mirror much if I can help it. If I catch my reflection in a window I turn away - that wobbly state of a woman can’t really be me, can it?

Over the last nine years, I’ve joined WeightWatchers three times. Each time I shed up to half a stone in a week then quietly quit, dejected when I failed to keep up the breakneck pace. A succession of personal trainers has made me laugh and cry as they put me through my paces, my belly wobbling and my red face pleading for mercy. Once I was sick from the exertion and kept going, only to be driven away by the trainer’s revulsion at my ‘food diary’. Chewits weren’t great, he said, could I give some salad leaves a try instead?

I hated exercise and I loved eating. I come from a family of yo-yo dieters, my lovely mum’s cooking is to die for. I was rewarded with treats of sweets or a Chinese takeaway as a child. But so what? That’s hardly an excuse for pigging out like this.

Usually I made a joke of my size, I’d say I had a ‘gland problem’ - “I have this gland that makes me a greedy so and so.” Or “Just because I know how many calories are in a Curly Wurly, doesn’t mean I can’t eat six.”

But there’s nothing very funny about being stuck in this groundhog day of overeating and desperation.  My heart breaks that I have ended up like this.

I’m angry with myself for never speaking up. I’m strong in every other area of my life, but this is my hidden shame. I know I’m not alone.

Take my friend Alison, stuffing herself in an 'all you can eat' Chinese buffet a day after coming off a regime of slimming shakes and biscuits. Knowing it would make her sick wasn’t enough to stop her.  And Mandy’s inconsolable about the time she sought solace in a stash of Swiss chocolate in an aeroplane loo because she was too big for her seat. That’s some Mile High Club.

I know the feeling - I hit the candy floss and hotdogs big time when the seatbelt at Alton Towers wouldn’t stretch around my well-cushioned middle.

Yet my latest binge is my first in more than six months.

I’ve lost two stone and kept it off. Enough was enough.  Not being able to zip up a size 22 coat was the last straw. This week as I donned white jeans for a photo shoot, I could have cried tears of joy. I know I'm still no Kate Moss - and never will be - but I'm a warm-hearted mum who has just dared to try on jeans for the first time in more than 10 years - and to get into them too. How fantastic is that? I know lots of women will understand what a truly watershed moment this is. Go me! 

Thanks to the help of a nutritionist, I’ve managed to see that my disjointed attacks of overeating are learned behaviour.

She has explained to me that food is not naughty, it’s just food.  A light has gone on, I feel like I am truly on my way to being cured of this cycle of depriving myself then overeating and hating myself for doing that. Just by listening to me, and telling me I’m not alone, the nutritionist has made a life-changing difference.
I’m beginning to understand that I’m not weak, disgusting, lazy or greedy, as fat people are viewed or mocked. I’m just doing what I know.

And even in the most determined and concerted of weight loss efforts there’s going to be slip ups.
I lost two stone  in seven weeks, through healthy eating and exercise.

I've maintained that weight loss in recent months and now I need to knuckle down and lose some more.

On the whole, despite ‘falling off the wagon’ so spectacularly last week, my passion for stodge, sugar and fat has been replaced by a passion for reduced fat houmous, freshly prepared meals and a cross trainer at my local gym.

And I love swimming - that’s got to be better ‘me time’ than shovelling so much sugar into my mouth. There's more weight to come off, of course there is but I've broken the cycle. Twelve months after suffering the humiliation of being too big for a safety belt at Alton Towers, I've whooped with laughter afer fitting easily onto white knuckle rides at Walt Disney World and Drayton Manor. I'm not going to let the fact I'm overweight stop me having fun.

The nutritionist, Lyndel Costain, has been supportive and compassionate. I thought she would lecture me on food groups and tell me to nibble raw carrot instead of Chewits. But she has helped me understand I can eat what I want, when I want. It’s up to me to make the right choices. There are no such things as bad foods, she says, just bad amounts.

That includes the chips I swallowed in the blink of an eye after being so stressed at missing my first appointment with her thanks to a traffic snarl-up. Who’d have thought it? The fact that I shared them, is apparently a step in the right direction.   

My target weight is around nine and a half to ten stone - the right weight for my height and frame. At that size, I’ll be healthy and can run around with my daughters instead of scowling from the sidelines at a beach, park or swimming pool.

But I also know that as I head towards that target weight, there will be hiccups. Okay so those hiccups have enough calories to sink a ship, but I can sail past them so long as I keep my goal in sight.

News of my secret bingeing addiction will shock my partner, my family and my friends but they have always been there for me and they’ll be here for me now. I’m happy to have offloaded this secret and move forward with my vision of a fitter, healthier and guilt-free me.

Despite my latest binge, realisation is dawning. I’m sorry I’ve had another go at the KitKats, but they were ‘only’ two finger ones.  That’s not twisted logic, that’s choosing to look on the bright side. I know I’m getting there. I can’t change the past, but I can change my future. And that’s nothing to scoff at.

Find support for eating disorders here.

 

Comments

[MattC]

Hi there - thanks so much for reposting this frank and useful account. I keep reading lately (because of the increased interest following the proposed re-categorisations of the DSM1V)from people who believe binge eating is a simple matter of will power/eat less/do more and therefore shouldnt get medical help. Your simple sentence "I’m distressed and out of control" sums up the two main aspects of genuine binge eating problems that most people just dont understand.
thanks again,

Matt C

[Chic Mama]

This rings all too familiar.I know exactly the feeling of eating bar after bar of chocolate in secret and then hiding the evidence. Fortunately those moments happen very infrequently for me but I am a 'classic'.I use food as a reward....if I feel sad, fed up, fat (haha) etc...
Very interesting post, thank you.

[Acai Optimum]

Love the insight. Thanks for a wonderful job.

[Linda]

Thank you for the comments here - I got a lot of support when I posted this online when it was first published and am very happy to have shared my experience, now I'm off to hit the slimming shakes. Whoops.

[Rinna Kennedy White]

i am 17 and having all these problems and emotions right now. it's getting in the way of everything i do . you have made me feel i'm not stupid and the only one and i'm going to speak to a nutrionist i think :) thankyou