Tuesday, 3 May 2011
Swore I'd say nothing until I reached this milestone, would not tempt fate. It's taken six months - very slow, deliberately so, knowing where more drastic weight-loss diets often end. Still a long way to go to a healthy weight, perhaps another six months, but lighter now than I've been for much more than a decade. A startled, mostly pleasurable unfamiliarity I wake up to even on the worst of days. Not only pleasurable: all kinds of feelings smothered for so long in flesh, hunger before meals in a belly that's forgotten this sensation and confuses it with fear. It's why everything else has been harder in recent months. It may be wasted effort, destined only for rapid reversal (or maybe the experience of struggling with addiction is never wasted, even if it gets the better of you?). This, when the change becomes inwardly and outwardly apparent, is probably the time of highest risk. Tremulous and trivial and enormous, it's still tempting fate. Yikes, is that a rib? a muscle?