I hear the term "comfort eating" banded about quite a bit. I know this is what I immediately think I'm doing when I indulge in this behaviour. This bowt started when a guy I was in love with broke up with me last year. I just didn't know what to do with myself and this feeling. I've begun to realise that bingeing is not at all comforting. I mean, what's so ocmforting about wasteing money on junk food and take-aways when you have perfectly good, healthy food already in the house? What's so comforting about dreading seeing friends you've not seen for a while as they'll realise how much weight you've put on? what's so comforting about not being able to fit into all the nice clothes you have in your wardrobe? What's so comforting about having brain fog at work the day after a binge due to all the sugsr you consumed the night before? i know it's not going to lead to anything but misery yet bingeing sooths me in a way nothing else can. Maybe it's a childhood thing, although I think maybe, with me, it's kinds trying to build a barrier against men. As in, if I have a big fat ass no-one is going to be interested in me and I won't get hurt again, even though conciously I do want to love again. Any thoughts?
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