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 is no winning with an eating disorder. Less pride in recovery milestones, I only hear and see weight gain - and it still scares me.

Following a trend on Instagram is the perfect analogy of running a business - time believed to be well-spent can often allude to nothing.

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?

Holidays are more about looking good in a bikini; until I'm loved and successful, I don’t believe I deserve it.

I have to consciously not overthink body change. Otherwise it will get to me that I no longer look or feel how I used to.

Cellulite has been my nemesis since the age of 16, I still struggle with it twelve years later.

Yoghurt is a fear food; although I took the plunge and bought one to have for dessert, I freaked out and never ate it. Here's why.

I continue to cancel or decline events and then feel sad to miss out. My choice, driven more out of fear than want.

Adjusting to body change is difficult and uncomfortable. I don't particularly like it.

What will it take for others to acknowledge and understand the extremity of an eating disorder?

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.

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