Of all things in life, I am struggling with my thighs at the moment. 5% of my body, 1% if that, and yet I can't stop.

There's an ‘i’ in exercise for a reason. Doing it for ourselves or the validation of others - and what if I am not in a good headspace?

Diet culture language is 'normal' - we hear it daily - and yet nobody admits to disordered thoughts. Is there really any difference?

I love Christmas - but I haven't left myself live Christmas since the eating disorder came into existence.

The eating disorder has taught me to worry. I overthink, lose sleep - and when it panics, I panic.

Sharing recovery highs is one thing - admitting to slipping up is shameful, weak, even.

I am scared and embarrassed to admit to my slip-ups, failures, in recovery. Here's the truth.

Food should be earned and energy burnt off. Is there really any other way?

Living with an eating disorder is like having a second job. The worst boss.

In May 2020, I admitted to my family and friends that I have been living with an eating disorder for over eight years.