I have an eating disorder. I have had one since I was maybe nine years old, and I only know the depth of it from years of therapy and the fact I’m studying to be a psychologist.

That, and the starving/exercising/bingeing/purging/stuffing series that have happened my entire life up and continuing to this day. I’m now at just under my HW, and it’s so hard to lose, because my roller coaster metabolism has fucked my body’s ability to shed pounds.

I have a husband who won’t accept my eating disorder, though I’ve told him to it as plain as I can- as in, literally, : I have an eating disorder which, right now, is called Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, or ED-NOS. Here are the details. Here is my history. This explains why I never ate in front of you for our first year of dating, and now why my food behavior has changed. And then I also told him about crap in my childhood that led to this. He knew all this within our second year of dating, and when he ignored it in the beginning, I ignored it, too. Now, due to my health, it can’t be, and he’s going about it ALL WRONG, and he can’t hear me calling out.

I’m 34, born and raised in southern U.S.A. My husband in 60, and from Hungary.

He keeps saying triggering s*** like: We’ll just get you liposuction, and that will start you on weight loss.

Why don’t you just eat less?

You’d be so much prettier if you lost a few pounds.

*he grabs my fat, jiggles it, and giggles*

*he has a fetish of watching me eat which he now knows is wrong*

Why can’t you see a doctor who can tell you what to do? <– Every one I've seen has said I have an ED, need A, B, and C, and he won't accept it.

Final point hit over the past three months that I've tried to show him that bariatric surgery is the best for me healthwise- (avoid diabetes, help my joints, etc., and ALL my docs have suggested it), but he won't budge. "Liposuction," he says. "No one is cutting into your stomach."

Basically, he's abusive and I'm letting him be abusive so I have no excuse. I can't get away from him. We're financially crappy, with him working odd jobs and me working full-time plus me going to grad school full-time.

When is the time to say stop? I think, for me, it's when I've graduated and become financially stable and independent.

I feel like a fat and unwilling concubine.