The new eating disorders

Chew-and-spit
Sufferers believe that by chewing food and then spitting it out, they will not ingest any calories. “I’ve been doing it for some time,” blogs one woman. “I eat normally — breakfast, lunch and dinner — all healthy, with swallowing. But then, after dinner, I go to a supermarket and buy lots of chocolate. Then I lock myself in my room and I just chew all the chocolate, then spit it out in a bag. I’ve been doing this a lot lately, and I find I can’t stop. It is time-consuming and expensive, but I don’t mind that much, as long as it doesn’t lead to anything unhealthy or an eating disorder.” Jade points out that chew-and-spit isn’t just potentially harmful to health: the method doesn’t even work. “When you chew food, you absorb a lot of sugars and fats in the mouth. For someone to go to those lengths suggests they do have serious issues, not just with cravings, but with feelings of self-esteem, stress and perceptions of shape and weight.”

Diabulimia
Type 1 diabetics skip their insulin shots in order to lose weight. Failure to administer insulin places the body in starvation mode, causing blood-sugar levels to rise. This forces the body to get energy from fat reserves and muscle, and leads to rapid weight loss. But the consequences can be fatal — it can result in a life-threatening condition called diabetic ketoacidosis. “I have had diabulimia for two-and-a-half years,” confides one woman. “I have always had problems with my weight, and I put on 1st after I was first diagnosed with diabetes. Then I discovered that all I needed to do was skip my insulin. I’ve been hospitalised several times; I’ve lost my hair and suffered from depression. But still I can’t stop.

Night eating disorder
Amy, a 35-year-old lawyer, has suffered from this condition for years. “It started when I had a bad bout of food poisoning in my twenties, and I didn’t eat for a couple of days. I loved how skinny it made me feel. Around that time, I started a stressful new job and was plagued by insomnia. I began to wake up two or three times a night feeling ravenous. I’d get up at 3.30am and eat cold spaghetti bolognese, ice cream, victoria sponge, anything I could lay my hands on.” Amy believes that by fasting for much of the day, she’s offsetting the nocturnal calories. “I am sure I’d be obese if I ate normally during the day, because I’d still want to binge when everyone else is in bed. Night eating helps me to sleep.” Amy is neither fat nor thin because the starving and bingeing cancel each other out. She does look very tired, though, and has problem skin.

Orthorexia
An obsession with organic, E-number-free food. Orthorexics are, on the face of it, your basic urban food obsessives gone mad. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly eat that, it contains E121. I’ll have something later,” they’ll tell you. “If only those chips were organic, of course I’d eat them.” Sure they would. Although orthorexia sounds like the latest media fad, many people with serious eating disorders use their desire to eat only healthy, ethically sourced food as a socially acceptable excuse to avoid eating anything at all.

Even the NHS has started to embrace the philosophy of macrobiotics (Alamy)

Modern macrobiotics

Charlie Norton swapped the high for the wholesome life, and made his belly a shrine
When I keeled over with stomach cramps in a Hamptons night club in 2005, I began to suspect I had been living too hard. A few days later, I was back in London on a drip at St Mary’s, Paddington, recovering from amoebic dysentery.

I probably contracted the parasite from water in Morocco, when, hungover, I drank from a tap. Although I recovered with antibiotics, the symptoms returned every few months when I was rundown — a combination of fever, cramps and powerful loo breaks. I was peeved.

I had always prided myself on my cast-iron belly, which I hurled abuse at for more than a decade. I am not alone. Men don’t tend to think too much about their diet, unless a po-faced doctor is holding a gun to their head, or they risk losing the attentions of a desirable woman.

So I tried gut doctors, colonic hosing, tropical-medicine clinics, and numerous homeopathic remedies. But, five years later, I still had a stomach as sensitive as a bloodhound’s nostril.

I realised it was time to make a change. I have a brother-in-law on steroids with colitis and diabetes, and a cousin who has had part of his large intestine removed. We’re slim, active men in our thirties, but we’re still not healthy.

The average British diet of 40% fat and 20% sugar is a diabetic time bomb; so maybe we should be looking at modern macrobiotics — which I believed was something painful that Gwyneth got up to in private.

The macrobiotic diet has been championed by vegans and food radicals in an unsexy fashion — it was bland, hard to source and antisocial This is not about the latest hot diet trend — more a fundamental way of living.

The philosophy, formalised by George Ohsawa in the 1920s, essentially avoids processed food and additives, sniffs at meat, dairy, sugar and wheat, and targets fruit and vegetables in season. It also restricts fundamental crutches such as caffeine, alcohol and cocaine.

This may sound as appetising as a death sentence, except, of course, it’s quite the opposite. The Japanese diet of miso, whole grains, vegetables, soy and seaweed adopted by macrobiotics is the healthiest on the planet — they have the lowest rates of cardiovascular disease and stomach disorders in the world.

For the past 30 years, the macrobiotic diet has been championed by vegans and food radicals in an unsexy fashion — it was bland, hard to source and prepare, and antisocial: effectively a diet for obsessive ballerinas and Hollywood pogo sticks.

But Ken Prange, a naturopath who studied under Michio Kushi, the master of modern macrobiotics, says it should never be dogmatic: “It’s not a strict, unyielding diet. Everything in moderation is okay, particularly to start with.”

It is the only diet advocated by the top personal trainer Matt Roberts, while macrobiotic restaurants are springing up all over Los Angeles and New York. Even the NHS has started to embrace the philosophy.

Recently, Britain’s first modern macrobiotic spa opened on a beautiful Scottish estate called Penninghame in Dumfries and Galloway. Over a six-course gourmet dinner cooked by the Italian macrobiotic chef Angela Agrati-Prange, we were dazzled by a mushroom risotto, tangy shoyu sauce and crispy tempura. It was a head-turner.

It’s no surprise that Penninghame has already been visited by top chefs, actors and business people. Marie Butler, its owner, says: “When you see how good Tom Cruise and Madonna look, you have to wonder about their diet. It’s no surprise it’s macrobiotic. All that vitality and energy comes from somewhere.”

After a week, I felt great, I was stir-fry crazy, and my stomach was a Buddhist shrine. My first hangover was the worst I have had for years, but

I recovered more quickly than usual, so I’m persevering. For me, this means never completely giving up chianti, lamb fillet or a 48-hour party session — I may be living only semi-biotically, but I still feel twice as good.

Penninghame Health Weeks start at £895. Call 01671 401414 for further details or visit penninghame.org