I binged. 1,676 killer-calories. I'm staying with my mother over the weekend and everything has gone to hell. She serves puddings and acts as though I've detonated an atomic bomb over an orphanage if I don't eat them. She's very sensitive about the idea of my relapsing and doesn't accept the legitimate desire to shed binge weight. We went to a cafe and she got me cake and biscuits. At dinner, when I didn't finish the ridiculous ham, beef, and noodle salad that was proffered, I said that I didn't like beef. My oaf of a brother answered, "tell the truth: you've had a lot of cake". I could have hit him. He went off on an internal orgy of self-flagellation when I looked offended, and my mother told me to make up with him. I said I forgave him, but I could have hit him. I'm not an aggressive person, or, at least, not when I'm well, but my brother begs homicide.