This isn't a great book. It's not gripping, it doesn't make you keep reading, if something it is a depressing exploration of anorexia and bulimia, as well, actually of self loathing and being gay in the closet. And that's the good part about it. It feels honest, I have no idea if it would actually help people that are in the closet or are struggling with eating disorders; but it is an account of a person that went through it all and survived, so yeah, it's almost as those autobiographies of people that go out to live in the woods and survive. Even like that, I did skip through some pages (or a lot), I was kinda tired of her account of self destruction and the ridiculous amounts of food she would eat. Particularly for me, this kind of self loathing doesn't make much sense, I love food, I love eating food and I would never slowly kill myself like this; still, it did give me some insight as to the reasons people do this. Oh and I think I love Portia de Rossi a little more.