Ashamed and disgusted

I can't believe I'm about to write this but.... I have head lice. I'm still shuddering. I've pulled 14 live insects out of my hair and I'm almost in tears. I can't believe this. It's so fucking disgusting that I want to scream. My whole body is itching. I'm practically covered in nit lotion now so hopefully they'll be dead and gone in a few hours but I can't understand how this happened; I haven't had head lice since I was six.
My mother apologised for her behaviour yesterday and made me a cup of tea (with skimmed milk obviously) this morning. I weighed in at 9 stone 7.3 this morning before the tea or the bathroom. Not too bad. Not too good either :/.
I had a scalding hot bath and pretty much burned the top layer of my skin off. It was a nice release; a sort of slight self-harm. I felt clean though; so much for that. Fucking lice. I managed without eating until about 7 when I ate tuna salad a la yesterday as planned. Felt sick again but kept it down again and was pretty proud of myself.
My mother being completely unhinged and irrational, I decided to emigrate to Simon's house until things blow over. The only problem there is that since I'm there so little, I take it as an excuse to eat a lot whenever I am. It wasn't until after I chewed and spat into a plastic bag 6 flapjacks, 4 bags of chocolate animal biscuits, a bag of jelly beans, 6 lindors, 2 chocolate bars, a piece of fried chicken, a box of fried potatoes and a bag of vegetable crisps that I realised why I was so tense. I couldn't bring myself to binge quite so much in light of the steady work I'd been doing so far but I needed to chew something to stop thinking. I still haven't told the college in Bosnia that I'm not going back even though term restarts tomorrow. Everyone will be gossiping about it :/. Ick. I then ate (and swallowed) a quarter of a flapjack, a bag of chocolate animal biscuits and half a bag of chilli crisps. Add a bottle of sugar free lemon and lime and a significant purging session and I'm feeling a little less guilty and useless. Then I found the louse. Fuck's sake.
I think my recovery meeting might be tomorrow; if they weigh me after that binge I will cry. Fuck. And I close up whenever they ask me questions in therapy. It's all like "So what do you think is wrong?". Silence. They always seem able to trivialise all my problems in one sentence. "Well your inadequate diet is probably causing your 'low mood' and sleep problems."
What do they want me to say? Oh, really? Well I'll just go home and eat a regular, balanced diet, stop throwing up and all my problems will just go away. It's all so easy. I don't know why I didn't think of that before! You stupid, stupid fucking cunt. Or maybe it's not that? Maybe, as I have already explained, it was the depression that caused all this bullshit and not the other way around. Grr. When I have time to think about it, I can list things that I need to change about myself and that make me so unhappy, but on the spot I have nothing to say.
One of the things that makes me so lucky is Simon. The loneliness of bulimia has been lessened slightly by being able to binge and C&S in front of him. It's nice to know that even with this, he still wants to be around me. I sometimes feel that no one really knows me and if they saw everything they'd leave me. I don't think that even I know everything about me. I'm cut off; even from myself. I can't stand sex any more. The feel of hands on my body makes me cringe. It all feels wrong. I can't stand myself.