At the stroke of midnight, Cinderella scurried down the vast palace steps, losing half her footwear and dressing like a Walmart shopper again. Honestly, that shouldn’t happen to anyone, but the girl couldn’t control it. And had I been her, I would have ditched that prince, anyway; she dances with him, they fall in love, and he can’t even figure out what she looks like without making her try on a shoe? Perhaps he should have seen a princely optometrist?

And to the fairy godmother who thought glass slippers were a sensible footwear choice — seriously?

Still. Cindy had a couple of good things going for her. For one thing, even though she was stuck with the sucky jobs in her house, she had happy forest animals willing to pitch in on the work. And until that danged shoe came off, she was leading a charmed life.

So am I, minus the animals with killer cleaning skills and, obviously, glass on my feet. When I have to do a lot of cleaning, my dog is positively useless.

Bonus: I didn’t lose any footwear, but the stroke of midnight hasn’t tolled, yet, for me.

I wait for it. Every morning when I wake up, I’m totally conscious of when I’ve failed, previously, and made the decision to give in to my baser needs. Every single day is a reality check, and the reminder that I’m not an imposter in this body. My situation is quite real; I’ve lost over 204 pounds. And while Cindy may have deserved the wave of a wand and a trip to the royal ball, my weight loss has been far from magical. It’s been the result of years of hard work, dedication, and a willingness to be a scientist on my own behalf so I can be fully aware of how my own body works.

Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I still don’t trust the reflection. I know that somewhere in me, there’s the potential of my brain giving up the fight. I’ve done it, before, despite massive efforts, though not as vested as this one. But I’d be a fool to believe I’ve banished that thinking completely; like pulling weeds from a garden, I know that the seeds of doubt can gain traction if I’m not diligent. I can’t just consider things done, yet.

I also know that despite keeping my weight down for years, I still have medical issues I wish to resolve. Medications I would like to no longer have to take. I am still insulin resistant regardless of what the scale says, and that factor alone can account for easy weight gain when I’m not willing to push hard. I want to do everything in my power to control and heal these issues, and until I reach a point where I am confident they are fully within my control, I continue to push forward. No magic wand will solve that for me; I have to continue to do the hard work required or risk letting those weeds invade, again.

Allowing myself to lose control amounts to hearing that bell start to toll and acting as if it’s nothing. I have to remain diligent and constantly listen; and in my case, at least, I can reverse time when one or two bells toll without having to flee, lose perfectly good footwear (no glass in my house, though), and relying on a prince with bad eyesight to get me back to my own personal fairytale. It’s me who creates my reality, not the wave of a wand; and now, I totally understand that the work I’ve put in also keeps me on course. I’m not about to throw away the years of intense mental and physical work I’ve done, and if my efforts had been easy and miraculous, I probably would have caved a long time ago. Being vested in the outcome makes a difference.

I’m responsible for that fairytale and as long as I keep on my own path, the stroke of midnight will remain far in the future. And while those glass slippers are gorgeous, I’ll stick with my running shoes.