I was always a rather large child, ridiculed for not being sporty at school whilst at home my nickname was “fatso”.
Coming home to an empty house from an early age I would find solace in food. Our kitchen cupboards were not full of scrumptious goodies so I would eat mash potato or gravy granules!
My mother was and still is obsessed with her weight as is my step-father keeping a close eye on what they eat.
By the age of 16 I had lost a considerable amount of weight and loved it. Then began my life long control of my body – from not eating at all, to taking laxatives, exercising religiously – hunger pains felt delightful as did the ache of exercise.
And this continued until I was diagnosed with being severely depressed – for months I hardly moved within the house never mind outside. The right combination of drugs took months to find. I’ve been on these for about a year now, I exercise each day, hardly eat but have piled on well over 3 stone in weight increased four dress sizes.
My reflection has always been something to avoid but now…I just see a huge blob, it’s not me.
Reading websites, the advice is to remain on medication “fat and sane rather than skinning and insane”. My doctor is wonderful and understands how I feel but the pounds are piling on despite following advice.
I feel disgusting.
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