I am fat. And yet, I'm the same size that I've been for a year. I'm not fatter. Shut up Ophelia. I have actually really been fatter than this - and I survived it. But I'm sure when I was fatter I was just as anxious and unhappy as I am now. My unhappiness is not a function of my weight. Oliver has disappeared off the face of the earth and while any boy would be likely to disappear off the face of the earth during his freshers at university, it left me feeling like a fat old woman. I can physically feel the grip of my eating disorder again. I can feel her hands around my neck, the all-consuming presence of her face in my mind, conscious of my fat body at every moment, seeing all the rolls, the spread, that face. The fear every morning when I have to get dressed, the fear of wearing trousers, a skirt, my bra digging into my back fat, my arms, my belly. Bend over and pinch the roll. It's not bigger...and yet it FEELS disgusting and out of control. ...
The City Girl Made of Glass - The true story of a girl burning up under the glare of the bright lights of The City of London