Sitting in my car in the supermarket car park, I ripped open the packaging of a whole roast chicken and began cramming it into my mouth.
But instead of feeling disgusted by my gluttony, I felt proud.
According to the slimming club I’d joined, roast chicken was one of the foods I could have unlimited amounts of, so I wasn’t doing anything wrong, was I?
It was just one example of how the ‘rules’ of a slimming plan made me develop (BED).
Growing up, I was always a bit chubby, and in my 20s, when I worked in hospitality, the weight piled on.
By 2017, I was living on fizzy drinks and ready meals.
I weighed 17st, and at 5ft 8in, I was .
An unflattering photo on social media was the wake-up call I needed.
In July 2017, I joined a slimming club, with weekly weigh-ins at a local community hall.
Members were encouraged to view some foods as ‘unlimited’ and others on a points scale, with a daily points allocation.
At first, I was losing several pounds a week and felt delighted.
But as the novelty wore off, I began to fall into destructive habits.
Feeling ravenous, I turned to the unlimited foods to feel full in a ‘healthy’ way.
From a whole chicken to a jacket potato and pasta in the same meal, I used them to hit that full feeling I craved, on top of my daily allowance of other foods.
I’d celebrate with a the night after my weigh-in, too.
I’d demolish a Chinese takeaway, chocolate, crisps and dips, eating for several hours, which I’d never done before.
Feeling guilty the following day, I’d restrict what I ate until my next weigh-in, with the exception of my unlimited food feasts.
Psychologically, I found myself increasingly hooked on the high I’d feel when bingeing – like the night I ate 12 bags of Aero chocolates, a family-sized tiramisu, plus a multipack of crisps – or from eating so much unlimited rice and fruit that I couldn’t move.
Within three months, my weight dropped to 16st, which only reinforced my belief that it was all fine.
However, as the months passed, I was bingeing more often, and my weight crept up again.
‘EMOTIONALLY LOW’
By 2018, I was 16st 7lb.
Embarrassed to be gaining rather than losing weight, I stopped attending meetings, though I kept following the plan.
Without the accountability of a meeting, I binged on takeaways several times a week, followed by eating nothing for a whole day, then eating beyond my points allocation.
As I got bigger, my joints ached and I felt exhausted and emotionally low.
If family and friends noticed, they didn’t say anything, but they must have wondered how I was fatter despite being on a slimming plan.
By January 2019, I was 19st 7lb and a size 24.
I felt like a failure.
I knew I needed to step away from the slimming plan for good.
My mum, who had attended clubs when she was younger, was really supportive.
She gave me a weight-loss hypnosis CD, and I began learning about , creating my own healthy diet where no food was ‘good’, ‘bad’ or ‘unlimited’.
It was only then that it hit me how disordered my eating had become.
After doing some researching online, I realised I’d developed BED.
I’d never even heard of before, and felt sad that, in trying to be healthy, I’d ended up with an .
But I knew that now I’d educated myself about food, I could overcome it.
By late 2019, my weight had dropped to 13st through healthy eating and .
I avoided feeling starving or stuffed, aiming to always be in the middle.
I met my partner in December 2019 and in August 2022 our daughter Evelyn was born.
During my pregnancy, my weight went back up to 16st, but I knew I could lose it sensibly and gradually.
Now, I’m 12st 2lb and size 12.
I feel healthier than ever, although it’s a daily battle not to listen to the BED voice in my head and have a secret binge.
Like many women, I thought a slimming club was the way to lose weight, but its rules saw my weight spiral, and I believe the focus on ‘good’ and ‘bad’ foods can forge dangerous habits.
I’ll never let my daughter join one.
