DietBlog: It’s like the best Christmas Present ever.

As our company Christmas party is Tuesday night, the night of my regular WW meeting, I decided to weigh-in at the CBD lunchtime meeting Monday. A bit of a cheat, sure, but at least now I’ll have a week to work off the party before the next weigh-in! At any rate, I really didn’t think I was going to break 85 this week. I felt like the weekend was a success overall, but in truth I really did eat (and drink) a lot more than I expected to. (I figure I’m carrying at least an extra 400g today from the massive Mexican feast we had at Cafe Pacifico last night.) I guess I balanced it pretty well with my hour-long runs every day. So today I headed over to the Dymocks Building, the site of my old meetings with Emily. I announced myself as a visitor and stepped on the scales, leaning way over to try to glimpse the readout. I could only see the bottom half of the letters upside-down and for a second I thought it read 87. Then I looked up and watched the old lady scrawl in my Passport… and I said, “Eighty-four? ARE YOU JOKING?” “I’m not joking!” she said. I let out a crazy laugh. “I can’t believe it. That means I’ve broken fifteen kilos. That’s the BEST CHRISTMAS PRESENT EVER.” I could feel tears welling up. Then I thanked every member of staff in the room and rushed out into the hallway to call the Snook…

After work I had my third session with the hypnotherapist, who was thrilled to hear about my progress. In fact, after talking with her she predicted that this would be my final meeting with her. I told her that I didn’t have any major issues to work through this week, but rather that I just wanted reinforcement and to keep up my momentum going into the New Year. It was wonderful to just relax and listen to her, especially after my struggles last week. (Did I tell you about that session? Remind me sometime when we’re drinking together. It was like something out of a movie. A movie about a person with multiple personalities. Tears were involved. That’s all I’m saying.)

But anyway, the glass ceiling – or rather, floor – has been shattered. The voice in my head that was saying “I can’t do this” has gone silent. I’m wearing my red Crocs at this very second, and I plan on wearing the hell out of them this summer. I’ve earned it.