My problems with food started when I was 18. I was a freshman in college and was living on my own for the first time. I would skip meals and only eat what I considered healthy foods. I exercised three times a day and check my weight everyday.

One night I decided to take laxatives. I took ten of them and went to bed. The next morning I felt horrible. I had cramps that were so painful I could barely walk. I barely made it to the bathroom and when I sat on the toilet my intestines exploded. I promised myself I would never take them again.

In the afternoon, when I felt better I realized that my stomach felt flatter. I also realized that I wasn't as bloated and I actually felt lighter. I took more laxatives that night. I continued to abuse laxatives for the next two years. At my lowest point I was taking 35 a day. I would binge on junk food and then take the laxatives.

The pain I felt from the laxative abuse was excruiating. But I actually liked the pain. I felt like I needed to be punished because I believed I was a bad, dirty person. I felt worthless and fat. I weighed myself everyday and if I was a pound or two over I would force myself to drink a bottle of Ipecac syrup. Just the taste made me puke.

People tried to help me. I was a shadow of my former self. My roommate called my Mom and told her that I had an eating disorder. My mother drove to my college and told me over lunch that I should seek counseling. Her advice went in one ear and out the other. I had lost so much weight that all of my friends were concerned about me.

My best friend Jesse called my Mom and told her that I looked horrible and needed help. He suggested that she stop paying for college so that I could come home and get better. I ended up taking a semester off and went to counseling.

The efforts I made were not enough. I continued to struggle and use laxatives. My body was so dependant on the laxatives that I now had to take them just so I could go to the bathroom. If I didn't take laxatives for a day or two I would become bloated and my clothes would be tight.

I started dating a guy I worked with. We went out for a month or so and the he found out about my bulimia. He freaked out and dumped me. It made my eating disorder even worse. I later met another man who became my boyfriend. After we dated for a few months my bulimia went into remission. I gained 30 pounds and was looking healthier.

When I gained weight, my boyfriend told me that I was chubby. None of my old clothes fit and nobosy complemented me on my body anymore. My boyfriend insisted that I lose weight and made me sign up for Weight Watchers. I was a size 8 instead of a 3. He asked me what happended to the tanned, toned girl he had fell in love with.

I didn't stay with Weight Watchers very long and eventually we broke up. I got a teaching job in another city and moved away. After 3 months of living in a new city I gained another 30 pounds. I was now offically fat. People called me fat behind my back and made jokes. Men I dated told me I had to lose weight and even my family started to tell me I needed to go on a diet.

After 2 years of being fat I stopped eating and lost 70 pounds in 3 months. People said I looked amazing and asked me how I had done it. I had become anorexic. I was only eating about 300 calories a day and was exercising twice a day sometimes for more than 2 hours a session.

I was hospitalized for my eating disorder and after that I quit my job. I moved to another city and gained 120 pounds. I was morbidly obese. None of my clothes fit and my family told me I had to go on a diet. I went back to Weight Watchers and lost 21 pounds. That is where I am today. I still have 80 pounds to lose.