The Half-Disappeared Man

Now...if you've been paying attention up to this point, you'll know that I can find a way to rob the joy out of even the most delicious moments.

If this was any other week, this could have been one of Those days.

But let's face one fact here - today's news is good. The weigh-in figure is:
16 stone...dead.

That's a loss of a simple quarter-pound, which in fact, on waking up this morning, I hadn't lost. After drinking some water and feeling the spirit of Cloaca move me though, there you go, quarter of a pound, that's your lot for the week. Now, what that means is that all the bitching I did this time last week about being so close to the 16 stone barrier, and the 4.5 stone of weightloss barrier, and the halfway point of this great experiment...is over and done with. I've done it, I've reached it, happy dance in the streets with your hands in the air...awoohoo.

But...

Yesterday, I did an unofficial weigh-in, and saw my first near-as-dammit-official, why-can't-it-be-Tuesday 15 stone reading. Granted, it was 15 stone 13.25, but there it was, all sparkly and Christmassy and thoroughly fifteeny in its wonderment.

This morning - nah, fuck you pal, you're 16 and that's where you'll stay!

Quite enough, on other weeks, to make me panic and pedal and whinge, and slubber the gloss of my triumph (is that a thing people still do?) with the grey paint of hungry ambition.

But this isn't any other week, this is this week. In fact, this is the last Tuesday weigh-in of my London life. The last Tuesday weigh-in before Christmas, because d leaves for Merthyr on Sunday, and takes the scales with her...

She did suggest I keep them with me here, and carry them to work with me on my last day, and then transport them home, like a new-born baby on that day, to set up in our new home in Wales. But - and please note the personal growth here - you can go too far with this kind of thing, y'know? So today's result, while meagre in its nature, and not as good as yesterday's unofficial figure, does at least allow me to say that in ten and a half months since I started this experiment, I've lost half of my excess weight. If we assume a similar rate of progress going forward, then by Christmas of 2012, I'll be, at least physically, the man I'm Supposed To Be. That's got to be a thought to banish the ghosts of yesterday's could-have-beens.

So - who's up for a happy dance with the officially Half-Disappeared Man?