the yellow fat from the mince. I was out in 2 minutes to greet Mom and Dad with a fake smile on my face. I could already feel the dread building in my chest as I saw my dad walk into the kitchen. How the hell would I explain this one? That's what I hated so much about my bulimia. I was a good person. An honest, kind and loving girl. My dream was to save up money and buy mom and dad a cottage by the sea. It's where they had always wanted to live. But here I was wasting their time, money and food. I hated that bulimia made me steal and lie... I blocked out feelings of guilt, and lied with a sweet smile on my face. "My friends came to hang out. There was nothing else, so we ate it. They say you're an awesome cook. Thanks Dad!" Dad believed me. But something inside me forever changed... That night in bed, I forced my head into my pillow and screamed from a deep part of my soul. I was furious and raging with self-disgust. I asked myself through gasps, over and over... " What have I become?" I vowed to myself, that I would not live like this any longer. If Recovery Was Possible, I Would Find It! 3.00am. I was sitting in bed, researching recovery tips online. I found a doctor who suggested cutting out all triggering foods. It sounded perfect and made sense. If