I would find joy in being hungry, the stronger the pangs in my tummy got the more I could visualise the fat simply melting away. Little did I know I was generating panic throughout my cells and causing my body to cling on for dear life to any drop of calories it got. I would gawk at pictures of emaciated models and listen with glee when people talked about experiences of anorexia, as if aspiring to one day be that committed.

It sounds crazy now but it wasn’t at the time. And it wasn’t for a long time after, I’m talking years.