The psychological connection between eating and shame

A bag of crisps before dinner; a chocolate biscuit afterwards. Toast before bed. More toast when I wake up. Without anybody around to see me – and here's the shameful bit – I feel I can eat what I like; nobody will judge me for portion size, or having seconds, or reassuring myself that words like "starter" and "dessert" make all those extra calories seem like part of one meal.

But when my fiancé comes back from holiday tomorrow, I'll make sure there is absolutely no indication that I've been gorging in his absence. I plan to wash up all the dishes, take out the bins and dispose of every last shred of evidence. He'll be none the wiser about my secret splurge.

Reading this, you may think I've got deep-rooted problems with food. I don't. I've never dieted, never been overweight, never had anything approaching an eating disorder. In fact, I'm a massive foodie – obsessed with cooking, baking and dining out. When my other half is around, I have no problem eating in front of him; he loves that my appetite is almost as big as his.

But when I know I'm eating more than normal, or indulging in something particularly unhealthy, I don't necessarily want him – or others – to know. From the odd wrapper surreptitiously crumpled in a coat pocket to the tubes of sweets lurking in the depths of my handbag, I have no qualms about keeping certain things under the radar.

I'm not alone, either.p

According to a recent poll of 2,000 women, three-fifths admitted that they go into hiding to eat certain foods. 23 per cent confessed to concealing wrappers and burying edible "evidence" in the bin. One in five of us, the startling survey by LighterLife found, has resorted to hiding food in the boot of the car so nobody else can eat it.

And 35 per cent said that when they have the house to themselves, they see it as their chance to eat what they want without being judged. It seems we've all done it – but this fact alone doesn't make it harmless. In fact, hiding food is the beginning of a very slippery slope.

There are 1.6 million people affected by an eating disorder in the UK. I say "people", because although incidences are higher among women (most commonly in the age bracket 12 to 28), around 11 per cent of sufferers of anorexia, bulimia or other eating disorders are male. Many are older, too. Some develop problems around food later in life; others have issues that date from childhood and hang over them, untreated and unrelenting.

I came into contact with many of these people last year, while researching for an investigation into the terrifying prevalence and influence of pro-anorexia and pro-bulimia websites – both in England and around the world. These are websites set up and used by those who perceive eating disorders as a "lifestyle" – not an illness – and urge others to do the same. They glamourise the illnesses as something aspirational, and populate the sites with pictures of skinny models, flaunting protruding ribs and "thigh gaps", as well as forum discussions with tips on skipping meals, bingeing and purging. The world's largest pro-ana site boasts 65,000 global users and 1.5 million posts.

Around two-thirds of those who have an eating disorder have visited "how-to" sites – and last year campaigners linked these websites with the surge in hospital admissions (up 8 per cent between 2013 and 2014 among school-age girls) for anorexia and bulimia. By fetishing a serious mental and physical illness, experts warned, young people's lives are being put in grave danger.

I immersed myself in this world for three months, listening in on forum discussions and interacting with members (all of whom were aware I was a journalist) to understand their motivations and beliefs. Alarmingly, hiding food was one of the most popular topics of discussion among users – both in terms of "tips" on how best to do it and stories from girls who practise such deceit on a daily basis.

Jade, 24, told me how she had suffered from anorexia since she was at school and was currently unemployed.

"My eating disorder started at a very young age," she said. "I got diagnosed at the age of nine. I remember things like playing tag at the schoolyard with my girlfriends, with the main reason of running around to lose weight – and throwing out my candies and food at school."

Ruby, 32, had a similar story to tell. She has lived the "half-life" of an anorexic since she was 16 and has been in and out of hospital for treatment five times. With her doctors' permission, she wrote to me from inside a psychiatric unit: 10 A4 pages of loopy, lyrical handwriting going into graphic detail about her experiences.

The forums, too, are full of tips on how to hide food – either to avoid eating it, or to dispose of leftovers after a purge. 'Hiding and Disposing of Food' is the headline on one pro-ana page.

Food hoarding, though many of us may do it without a second thought, is in fact a recognised psychological condition, one often associated with the early stages of an eating disorder.

"This is a specific type of hoarding behaviour that can involve hiding food, stealing food and/or secretive eating, with those often resulting in binge eating or night eating," one website explains. "Food is something that should nourish us, and yet so many people feel shame over how they eat, what they eat and how they look because of it. As such, hiding food or food packaging can be part of a larger portrait of shame around eating."

When you start hiding food, for whatever reason – be it wrappers of snacks you're feeling a bit embarrassed about having eaten (like me), or things you're supposed to have eaten but haven't (like Jade and Ruby) – you're signalling that you're ashamed of it.

This psychological connection between eating and shame is a perilous one. Start feeling guilty about food, in any context, and you begin to associate it with something you shouldn't be putting in your body. The origins of eating disorders, or food-related anxiety, are complex and still little-understood. But these sorts of emotions are definite warning signs, and, in a vulnerable mindset, risk bedding down.

Katie Lowe, a body language expert, tells me that the problem is "endemic".

"We live in a culture of shame, in which bodies are viewed as flawed if they're not airbrushed, and fat if they're not perfect. It's a considerably wider issue that needs to be addressed on a number of fronts, from magazines, movies and traditional media to the online communities that idolise perfection and thrive on snark.

"Unless we address the way we talk about ourselves and each other, and the unrealistic portrayal of women – and men – across the cultural landscape, eating disorders and poor body image will continue to grow."

Note her use of the word "we".

We all have a responsibility to stop this mentality spreading and to stop this sort of behaviour being seen as acceptable. The fact that so many women in the survey admitted to hiding food should alarm us; not reassure us that something many of us do is somehow normal. Obsessing over food – over anything – to this extent is most definitely not.

So, I shouldn't feel embarrassed about the long list of unhealthy snacks I've stuffed my face with over the past few days. Instead, I should feel embarrassed that I am even thinking about trying to conceal the fact that I've eaten them. From who, I wonder? From myself? If so, it's nothing more than self-delusion. From my fiancé? That's plain ridiculous and he'd be mortified if he knew I was thinking of hiding anything from him.

The solutions are not easy. And I realise that I'm writing this as someone who has never had a problem with dieting or food.

For others, it's far more complex. If you are one of the women (two in five) who eat secretly, hide wrappers, bury evidence or wait until your housemates/parents/spouse are out before tucking into that second dinner – for whatever reason – try thinking twice before you do it next time.

You may never have told anyone; or even admitted it to yourself. It may not be easy to stop. But remember this: food is nothing to be ashamed of. And neither are you.

For help and support call 1800 334 673, email support@thebutterflyfoundation.org.au or go to: The Butterfly Foundation or National Eating Disorders Assocation's parental toolkit.

LIFELINE 13 11 14.

Telegraph, London