I’m on a teeter-totter, balanced in the center; on one side, the weight I’ve lost, and the other, my current weight.

To say this is a strange place to be — in the in-between — is an understatement. I am literally ounces away from losing the equivalent of… me. Talk about your mental unpacking! Have I lost myself? Is it good to lose yourself?

I’m gonna argue for yeah, it’s a darned good thing. I spend a lot of time, these days, grinning to myself about silly little things that are only really funny to me. Last week, I was standing right next to a friend who was looking for me; he looked right over my head, looking for me on the opposite side of the room. Not too long ago, my own husband didn’t realize I was standing about thirty feet away from him in a grocery store.

Not actually me, but I couldn’t resist.

My own mother has sat across the table from me and made comments about the things that are different about me.

The changes on the inside are much greater than those on the outside. When I first started this process toward health, my mind yearned to not be tied to a body that held me down; now that one is nearly as capable as the other, I’ve found a harmony I don’t recall having, before. My skin may be physically saggier than a deflated balloon, but I am more comfortable in my skin now, with all of my battle scars in middle age, than I ever was when I was physically at my fittest in my teens.

I love my body for what it is. It’s far from perfect, but I no longer lament that I was born with a bad body. It’s simply mine to do with what I will; invest in it, or deny it. I’ve spent far too many years denying it and cursing it. Now, more than any previous point in my life, I understand it. I know its capabilities, and more importantly, I know what to do about them.

So, while I’m waiting to tip the fulcrum over to the other side to the teeter-totter drops down on the other side of the middle, I’ll just hang out here with you and know, with absolute certainty, that I’ll be tipping past the middle soon.