Sitting at the dining table, I tucked into my dinner.
‘Make sure you clean your plate,’ my mum, then 50, said.
It was 1995 and I was 10.
But everyone from Mum to my doctor was worried about my weight.
See, while I was taller than most of my mates and loved playing netball and riding my bike, I loved food too.
Was apparently too heavy for my age.
And before dinner that day, I'd already got through a stash of chocolate walking home from school.
Bingeing was a comfort, especially when I was being bullied.
A bit of a tomboy, I felt like I didn't fit in with the
