The Still, Small Voice

That's called Overdoing It.
Weigh-in today recorded me at 16 stone 3 pounds. So not only is it time to kick this back into gear, it's gonna be a couple of weeks before it gets back DOWN to the point at which it would have been time to kick this back into gear. This also means, incidentally, I've put on a whole half-stone in the space of a week, which is...erm...interesting.

Fortunately, the thing I've been waiting for, and talking about, and failing to force myself to do for weeks now...happened. Last night, out of nowhere, it just happened.

The click happened.

I've talked at verious points on this journey about how self-denial can get you to understand why people invent religions, spiritual experiences and the like. Not only is it entirely possible, when not having something that you really really want, to resent others who have it, but to imagine you're better than people who have what you don't have and can't allow yourself. From that sort of madness, you can extrapolate sin, and evil, and stoning the sinner, based initially in nothing more edifying than pure I-want-what-you-have-but-it'd-be-"wrong" jealousy.

And you can also extrapolate spirits from this kind of madness too. When I first began to do this thing, it started with me reaching a saturation point, and taking a breath, and then getting what felt like an outside voice in my ear. A still, small voice that simply said "You don't need this stuff. In fact, you need to not do this stuff. You need to not do this stuff now..."

After which, for all the bitching and whining and teeth-grinding and sweating and swearing of the first year of this thing, there was a still, quiet certainty working away in the background, telling me that I was on a journey that could only end in success.

That went to pot in March, and it's been broken ever since. Then, last night, I got into bed. I lay there for about five or six minutes, and then, I got the voice. "Time now," it said. "You don't need this stuff...again."

And to be honest, I believe it. Of course, it's not an external voice. It's a click in my brain, when my metabolism feels the need to change my direction and behaviour. And that's happened now.

Not that I don't still want sweet things - I wanted them the first time round, you remember? - but the voice is back, so here's where we go from here.

Went gymming this morning, and am thinking about fitting in some biking before this Jubilee weekend finishes. Tomorrow morning, we walk. Tomorrow lunchtime, we walk. Tomorrow evening, gymming and swimming...and so on...No fizz (barring occasional fruit fizzes, but certainly no Coke). No fried foods (because they're far too much like fun). I still have some frozen yoghurt left, but I wouldn't have started eating that stuff if I thought it was bad for you. But essentially, we're back to a world of perspex boxes, with a very occasional treat or two.

Feels good, irrespective of the result of the day. Feels like progress, irrespective of the more-than-a-stone I've put back on in recent weeks. Oh - and the blood was positive today - down from the 6s and 7s to a solid 4.8. So on we go, with a still, small voice at the heart of a swirling, screeching maelstrom of bitching and calorific longing.

That sounds fun, right?