Pingu, I could have written your post about childhood. I was 5,11 with 36C tits by the time I was 14. From the age of 12 onwards grew into being a woman so fast, I sometimes couldn't get up in the morning as my body had used up all its energy growing.
At school I felt like a heffalump. I was simply larger than everyone, quite simply scaled up, and like you, I started to eat to disguise it. I wasn't at all ready to be a woman. From the age of 15 onwards I looked like a Purple Ronnie drawing: stick arms and legs, fat belly and tits. My mother spent most of my teenage years prodding me and sighing in changing rooms.
At age 18, the weight just... fell away. I don't know where it went. And by this time I was old enough to deal with my height and tits and not hide them, though it took me a very, very long time to love my body. At 24 I weighed just under 10 stone and my BMI was 17%.
I think I escaped the curse of an eating disorder, for two reasons:
- My dad and two brothers took me exactly as I was. In fact they couldn't care about my size. big? small? - meh.
- My mum's comments come out of a place of love. I know that sounds weird, but she genuinely feels that the thinner I am, the better my life would be. It stems from her mother, who was very slender and used to prod away at mum and her sisters (mum was also chubby as a teen and slender in her 20s, you'd think she'd have learned). Thing is, I know, I absolutely know she loves me and she is enormously supportive in all other areas of my life. She'd just like me to be a size 8, or at a pinch, a size 10. It's also a class thing for her - being overweight is very non-U.
WallisSimpson - thank you for making my prophecy come true ? I knew someone would come along and stealth boast about their lovely slender child. I should put me comment on the 'things people always say on MN' thread. 
And... losing weight really isn't as simple as 'just do it!' after a certain age.
I am currently a size 14/16 due to the fact I work full time, have to socialise after work (food and formerly, drink) and want to spend the rest of my spare time with DD and DH. I'm also 9 weeks pregnant.
Until I was 30 I could eat literally anything and up my exercise amount for a few days and it would disappear as if by magic. Now I have to fight for every pound, and you know what? It's not worth it. I have a job I love (which includes reviewing restaurants), I have a toddler, I have friends and a life. I can climb up both sets of escalators from the piccadilly line at Holborn, that's good enough for me.
Frankly: Fuck the fact I'm carrying a few extra pounds. Seriously, fuck it. There really are more things in life, you know.