Too Broke for Bulimia

I have always liked my food. I have also always liked brushing my teeth, six times a day at some points. So the thought of making myself sick just to 1) be hungry again and 2) wear down the enamel, thus have Simon Cowell smile goals slip further from my grasp – baffled me.

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But this past year my medication made me sick, and I got used to vomiting. I realised if I over ate, I could make myself sick without even putting fingers down my throat; usually just thinking about it and staring at the loo was enough.

Eating habits are split into two distinct categories in my mind: under eating causes rank breath and relates to self control, deprivation and looking lovely/trim. Over eating, on the other hand, relates to gluttony and greed. I have often fallen into camp B.

I’d been dumped and wasn’t taking it well. I would overspend on food, knowing full well I would puke it up. I ate until my stomach hurt and I felt disgusted, reinforcing the bad thoughts I suspected about myself. I ate so much, none of my clothes fit and I made excuses to avoid people or leaving my room.

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Eventually a casual comment from a pal made me go on a clean, raw diet and the weight dropped off. I would write every single thing I ate in my food diary and judge myself if I had seven almonds instead of five as a snack.

I kept a decent chunk of that weight off. I’m developing a better understanding of my body, and in a beautiful twist of pre-Christmas binging fate I’ve lost my appetite. I’m enjoying this so much though, that the thought of having to eat causes anxiety and I spend all day psyching myself up. I feel guilty for not being hungry. If I were to binge, I’d think twice, maybe three times, but still head to the bathroom. I’m trying really hard to recognise the pattern and stop myself before it gets to a vom-worthy point.

Maybe these skewed priorities are a testament to my age, but an even bigger issue than the effect on my body is that I’m wasting money. A couple of sausage rolls and a caramel-pecan donut from Greggs don’t cost that much, but I wouldn’t chuck £2.60 down the loo either.

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Have Yourself a Saucy Little Christmas

Little less than a year ago I joined a Jazz-burlesque group (find Rachael Mellor Dance on social media if you’re interested!) Most of us had never danced on stage before, and as our performance dates drew nearer, we were drawn together by our insecurities – about back fat, about forgetting the routine, about whether we looked ridiculous in hot pants, about camel toes… But someone would always buoy you back up with reassurances that you definitely had ZERO back fat.

I’m a very jealous person and don’t like mixing friends and relationships. I wouldn’t even let the boy I was dating come to those performances because the thought of other more attractive girls prancing about in underwear made me insecure.

Now, that boy is my boyfriend and the other day I invited him to watch a burlesque show and support my friend Mandy, the hottie with pink hair. We sat right beneath the stage. I was vaguely jealous and uncomfortable, but for the first time, I wasn’t letting it rule my life. And I was proud to know my beautiful pal.

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Photo by Helen Basil

Joining is one of the best things I’ve ever done. I’ve never had a group of girlfriends, or even a female best mate. I was always comfortable around boys but wary of girls because they can be so damn catty. This past year has taught me what it really means to be a woman; that your self worth shouldn’t be dictated by how many boys find you fit.

When I leave the room after being with these girls, I trust them not to speak badly about me. And I don’t speak badly about them, because I have nothing bad to say. They’ve made me trust other girls again, and I love every single one.

Joining is one of the best things I’ve ever done. I’ve never had a group of girlfriends, or even a female best mate. I was always comfortable around boys but wary of girls because they can be so damn catty. This past year has taught me what it really means to be a woman; that your self worth shouldn’t be dictated by how many boys find you fit.

When I leave the room after being with these girls, I trust them not to speak badly about me. And I don’t speak badly about them, because I have nothing bad to say. They’ve made me trustother girls again, and I love every single one.

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Check out those nipple tassels on our new mascot, Fererro Rochelle! Photo by Justine Zoe.