To the outside world, I was living the high life. In my role as a showbiz journalist, I got to sip fizz at glitzy premieres and VIP parties on a nightly basis.Yet as I popped the cork on another bottle of prosecco, my mind wasn’t on celebrity gossip but on a recurring mathematical equation.I’d already drunk one bottle – 600 calories' worth – and if I kept imbibing that figure could well double by midnight.In order to maintain my slim size 8 figure – I had to keep up with my female peers and glamorous party guests – I had a self-imposed daily calorie limit of around 1,600 calories, below the NHS’s recommended guidance of 2,000 a day. Enough to stay trim without starving myself.But we all know that alcohol, with its high sugar levels, is hugely calorific. So with my booze-heavy lifestyle, where did that leave me?I could have cut back on the drinking... but instead I decided to forgo food. If I skipped lunch or dodged dinner, I told myself, I could drink two or three glasses of wine and still be within my limit.Today, there’s a name for this kind of disordered eating coupled with binge drinking: drunkorexia. Or, to give it its more technical name, Food and Alcohol Disturbance (FAD).And while the days when I ‘saved’ my calories for booze – a tactic that meant I was often not only malnourished but on the wobbly side of tipsy (and inevitably hungover) – may be behind me, drunkorexia remains a significant issue. Emily Cleary developed drunkorexia, AKA disordered eating coupled with binge drinking. Its more technical name is Food and Alcohol Disturbance (FAD) 'Back in those booze-heavy days, going teetotal never even crossed my mind. Alcohol was only seen as fun, something that made life better, less boring,' writes EmilyFindings suggests that between 14 and 46 per cent of women may be affected by drunkorexic behaviour – which poses significant health risks such as malnutrition, dehydration and cardiovascular issues.And contrary to the belief that Gen Z are far more abstemious, a recent study by University College London found that 68 per cent of 23-year-olds reported binge drinking in the past year.Another study found one in three female students was regularly cutting back on food and increasing physical exercise to compensate for calories gained from alcohol.Back in the Noughties, when I was in my late 20s and wrote for women’s magazines, my nights were a blur of launches, VIP events and free alcohol as I covered celebrity stories.This was the era of body shaming, a time when magazine editors still drew red ‘circles of shame’ on any female star over 7st displaying a hint of a bingo wing or a dimple of cellulite – and I wasn’t immune.When a pap got a shot of me scoffing canapes at a lunchtime launch next to a stick-thin Stacey Solomon (if I was a size eight, she must have been no more than a six at the time) my boss at a woman’s magazine printed the evidence and stuck it on my PC screen with the words, ‘A moment on the lips…’ scrawled across it.I was mortified.It’s hardly surprising that I became somewhat obsessive about my appearance and how to maintain it. And back in those booze-heavy days, going teetotal never even crossed my mind. Alcohol was only seen as fun, something that made life better, less boring.During all those nights out, I was perpetually pictured with a drink in my hand, grinning despite the rumbles in my belly. If I spent four freezing hours on a red carpet at a film premiere, a free cocktail at the after-party was totally justified – and deserved, I told myself.If I nursed a glass of wine while waiting for Kylie to arrive at a club, it made sense to make it a large one. I was claiming on expenses anyway. As for all those glasses of prosecco, well I needed to blend in with the crowd to get the gossip.Even when I only had one or two glasses a night they added up – and the late nights almost always saw me grabbing a bag of chips at Paddington before jumping on the last train home. That’s 300 calories off tomorrow’s food limit right there.Discovering the calorie-counting app MyFitnessPal fuelled my obsession. Then, nobody really talked about the quality of the food we eat in the way we do now. It was a simple sum that even I could understand: calories in versus calories out.So why would I let a time-consuming and bloating meal take me to my daily limit and leave no room for my Friday prosecco? I wouldn’t. Writer Emily seen drinking in her 20s. 'During all those nights out, I was perpetually pictured with a drink in my hand, grinning despite the rumbles in my belly,' she says 'No one ever commented or raised any concerns. To the outside world, I was a naturally skinny girl who loved a party,' writes EmilyFor breakfast I’d grab a slice of marmite on toast, snacking on rice cakes and grapes. Instead of lunch, I’d spend my break slogging away at the gym or swimming laps in the pool behind our Soho office, burning off an extra few hundred calories just so I could assign them to a glass of wine later. Late afternoon I’d fill up on a big bowl of pasta at my desk but that was usually it for solids.I was happy to restrict myself in this way for at least five days a week – just so I could blow my calorie allowance on alcohol.No one ever commented or raised any concerns. To the outside world, I was a naturally skinny girl who loved a party.But while I didn’t consider myself to have an eating disorder, nor a drinking problem, this behaviour couldn’t last. I see now that my appearance had become an obsession. Things peaked a month before my wedding, aged 33, when I wanted to ‘look my best’ – which, of course, meant as slim as possible.I remember rowing furiously for almost an hour on the cut-price rowing machine I’d installed in my living room, while catching up on the soap operas I would be writing about the next day.Afterwards, my app told me the workout burned 250 calories, which meant I had officially ‘earned’ a post-workout glass of white wine – and maybe one more.It was only when, three months after my wedding, I fell pregnant that I ditched the booze and, by default, the calorie counting.Today, I’m appalled at the way I treated my body. I’m furious that I let myself be brainwashed by the toxic delusion that staying skinny and over-drinking is the key to happiness.Thankfully, now 47, I have a newfound love for exercise and my size 12 self. I may not be ‘skinny’ but I’m far stronger, healthier and happier. And I’m proud that my belly is rounded from birthing two huge babies – and enjoying too much cheese.Two years ago, I retrained as a personal trainer and nutritionist. I shun ultra-processed foods, cook from scratch and my fridge is filled with leafy greens and fruits that I didn’t even know the name of ten years ago.I still enjoy a drink but I always eat beforehand and haven’t counted calories in years. And if the choice is between dinner and a drink, dinner wins every time.