Before I begin this entry, I think it's important to note that I've never been diagnosed with Binge Eating Disorder. Depression - yes, but BED - no.

I've always been an emotional eater. A secret eater. A hiding empty containers of hummus or takeaway in the bottom of the bin eater, if you will. This is something that going on anti-depressants and calorie counting helps me control. But sometimes I fail. And today is a failure.

There's no reason why I failed. Sure I'm on my period, I'm home alone, I had a busy day, and it rained so I didn't want to walk to kickboxing on my own little legs but really that's not an excuse.

I just had that craving. I didn't even want to eat that badly, I was hungry but that was probably boredom. I just knew I was going to order a shit load of food and eat it. I just knew. I was making excuses in my head about how I'll delete the takeaway app, I'll run 60 miles in September, and I'll go to kickboxing 3 times a week every week but I should be better than that. 

So I'm writing this entry partly out of self-pity, partly out of frustration, and partly as a reminder to myself next time this happens: binging fucking hurts. My stomach is in bits and I feel sick and it is so not worth it. Especially because despite all that I still want something sweet!

Close up of a delicious cake on colorful background with copyspace

Like this ^, but ya know - vegan.

So what do I do know?

I rest my tummy and I lick my wounds and tomorrow I be better. 

I remember to count my calories and eat before I'm hungry. I remember to move my body. I remember to find something interesting to do. And then the next day I do it all over again.

And next time I fuck up, hopefully I fuck up a little less. 💛