How to Cope with Emetophobia in Relationships?

So, I've been emetophobic pretty much my entire life, even though the majority of the time I didn't even know of a name for it. As I got older and developed IBS, I think it's evolved into cibophobia/sitiophobia if emetophobia doesn't cover IBS flare-ups, as well. As such, I've had a really unhealthy relationship with food/eating and often feel like my life would just be so much easier if I just starved myself (which is a really unhealthy way to think, I know, and I don't want to face the repercussions of malnutrition, especially losing the ability to have kids in the future, but at the same time sometimes eating is just such a chore that it makes it hard to think life could ever be worthwhile or easy with food involved). This has always been bad but in the past couple months, with all the serious changes in my life, I feel like things have gotten worse and it doesn't really help that I feel like most of the time my boyfriend (who I live with) doesn't quite understand. He'll make comments that I know are well-intentioned or just playful or whatever but deep down, they set something off inside of me that sends me spiraling. For example, last night we picked up KFC for dinner and I was already panicking enough because I had forgotten how greasy their chicken was and was scared it was going to make me sick one way or another. I had barely eaten all day today and so I decided to heat up leftovers for dinner. I told myself I was going to be a little more forgiving with myself this time and try not to be so preoccupied with the negative repercussions it could only possibly have on me. The chicken was blazing hot when I pulled it out of the microwave so I waited for it to cool down a bit before digging in. My boyfriend went to grab a piece, as there were three massive pieces left and I sure as hell wasn't going to deter him from eating some himself, and said just as I was hardcore digging in "Oh, this is cold, you've gotta put it back in the microwave so it doesn't make you sick." I immediately started panicking and I freaked out on him a little bit, terrified of the thought of putting myself at risk for food poisoning. I started losing it and asking him repeatedly, "IS THIS GOING TO MAKE ME SICK?!?! BUT WHAT IF THIS MAKES ME SICK?!?! I CAN'T GET SICK!" to where he corrected himself by saying that it wasn't going to actually make me sick so much all that grease wasn't going to go down easy if it was cold and that it might make me feel sick. By that point, though, I was way too far-gone and it was pointless. I had already officially tagged that chicken as bad food, it was officially tainted for me and no amount of extra minutes in the microwave were going to make me change my mind, I refused to touch it. I resolved to just eating my sad little leftover mashed potatoes and calling that dinner, pretty much. I'm so conflicted about this, though, because on one hand I appreciate him looking out for me. If he hadn't said anything and I did, in fact, get sick from cold chicken, then things would've been ten times worse but at the same time, saying anything makes me insanely paranoid and then I refuse to eat so either way, I can't win. It's such an uphill battle and I feel like he has no idea that I'm still mulling over the situation. Sometimes I feel like he just doesn't understand how much this affects me and how much of a struggle it is to live like this. I want to have a conversation with him about it but I don't even know where to start or how to word it to show that I do, in fact, appreciate him looking out for me but that I'm really sensitive about food and eating and that sometimes comments that are partially helpful/appreciated are also harmful and send me spiraling.