I don’t remember when my issues with food began, but I do know it’s always been my drug of choice. I’ve always found great pleasure in what I feed my body—and often great disgust with how I feel afterward.

When I was young, there was no judgment attached. Pizza parties and double scoops.

Those were the days of eating for pleasure.

In college, I had a love for fast food and convenience. But somewhere along the line, shame snuck in. Those weren’t healthy choices; they were choices I should hide.

Those were the days of self-conscious eating.

Eventually, I turned my attention toward my body. When I moved to Texas, the women all looked like movie stars. I remember feeling like I could never compete. I didn’t have money for the best makeup or a makeover, so I joined a gym instead.

Those were the days of compulsive exercise.

During that time, I met my husband, and …