I binge at night. When my family is asleep I come downstairs and I eat. I eat as much as I can. I stuff myself like a pig and it's why I'm fat. It's why my face is round and I have a double chin. It's why I can't fit into normal sized clothes or chairs with arms. Its why I can't run or go up a flight of steps without breaking into a sweat. I binge and it feels so good and it's destroying my body. Sometimes when I find a new stretch mark or outgrow another pair of pants I feel ashamed and I'll want to punish myself for being such a gross fat pig, so I'll eat even more until it hurts. I feel out of control and scared. I repulse myself and feel turned on all at the same time. I hate this about me but I don't want to stop. I want to see how far I will go. How out of control will I get? How fat? How unhealthy? I think I need help, but I want to know what will happen if I don't get it. I'm honestly terrified that I feel this way because I'm doing it. Every night I'm doing it to myself. I'm gorging on junk and watching it manifest itself all over my big heavy growing body. I'm actively ruining my body. Internally with massive doses of fat sugar and salt. I can feel my health slipping away, but what excites me is the visual manifestation of that. I can see the damage I'm doing. The shameful excessive gluttony is visible and obvious and getting worse every day. I barely recognize myself in the mirror. Who is this fat disgusting blob? I've changed so much. Grown so much. My features distorted by fat. My limbs thick and heavy to lift, my hips wide, my waist gone - overwhelmed with flab that forms tire-like rolls that hug me and hang down to my cellulite covered thighs. I'm grotesque. Obese. That is what I did. That is me and more and more it is all I am as i slip deeper and deeper into this morbid endeavor. There is so much of me now and I am almost gone.