Once again, I’m pleased to note a loss. A girl could seriously get used to this.

It’s easy to feel good about weight loss efforts when they’re going well. It’s invigorating to see changes. I’m seeing them in other places than just the scale; my size has shifted enough that I’ve needed to take corrective action. Otherwise known as a belt, so the world doesn’t see my pants fall down around my ankles. The only belt I could find, since I don’t normally wear one, had to be cinched to the smallest notch.

I’ve lost the equivalent of an adult alpaca — without the attitude.

It’s when nothing changes that times get tough, that doubt creeps in. I’ve been there. I may very well be there, again. After all, the road I’ve taken is hardly flat and straight; it’s more like an abused mountain road with dips and switchbacks, and plenty of potholes.

The closer I get to each goal, though, my resolve has strengthened. While there’s still at least another year or two for me to keep at the good fight, I know more certainly than ever that I’m finally going to reach my goals. All of them.

That sort of confidence has been hard won, and the battles are far from over. The shape of what my life will eventually look like is starting to emerge from the fog. That shape is already within me. I already know how to be that person — because I already am that person.

I used to think that some undefined change would still have to take place for me to be truly successful at getting healthier and improving my whole being, and I was stumped, because I had no idea how to go about changing. You have to know what to change to, after all. I was wrong about that; what it has taken has been a commitment to shaving off the excess — not just weight, but the mental crutches that no longer serve me.

It’s an emergence; a shedding.

It’s both a willingness to recognize when change is needed — and an unwillingness to compromise and risk the dream. Every step, even missteps, are in the right direction if I understand both the successes and the failures.