It is my body, right?

ED got really out of control last week. I was bingeing constantly, and I felt so freed by the fact that I didn't have to write it down that I took that as permission to do whatever I wanted. Also, because I have been a bit happier lately I have not had the immense feelings of disgust and self-loathing that usually accompany a binge, and thus have been less motivated to avoid it. After a few days of watching myself grow fatter, however, the usual ED feelings returned. By then I had reached the "fuck it" point, and was less than driven to stop on my own.
I went to the nutritionist on Tuesday and I am back to having to write everything down. I am glad to say that even after a solid week or so of bingeing , I didn't gain as much as I'd thought (about 2 lbs.) I am happy to have the accountability back.
One thing I tend to do when I don't want to have to tell her what I ate is I chew and spit. Without swallowing it is not eating, and spitting is not purging, so I feel like this is a good way around things. My room mates have carrot cake, butterscotch cookies and donuts on the counter "for whoever wants them". And these items have been the victims of my strange mastication ritual. Seriously, who tells a bulimic she can have all the baked goods she wants, and then leaves her alone in the apartment? Are they trying to sabotage me? I really don't need their help, I've got that covered on my own.
I hate how much I care about my body, how much I try to perfect and ruin it in order to somehow win or protect myself. If I am thin I am superior, if I am fat I am safe. I wish we existed as entities of disembodied consciousness and could just love and connect without the terror, judgement, vanity and disgust entailed in an embodied existence.

In other news, things with JBM are going pretty well. I did sleep with him, surprise surprise, and something quite odd happened:
Usually I remember sex in montage form, like I can only recall select blurbs and images, because I slip into this alterna state that feels like something outside myself. My shrink says I do this because I "have not dealt with past sexual trauma". I don't know if he is right, but it never really bothered me, it just helped make things easy to separate (sex and intimacy). With JBM, right as I was about to check out, he looked me in the eye as if to say, "stay here with me". It was so strange, I was so present. I remember it completely. It felt almost awkward to me to look at him later and remember what had gone on between us. Very vulnerable, I am not sure how I feel about this. Another instance in which life without a body might be simpler, (though possibly less pleasurable. )