1 year, 47lb.

Not shabby progress at all. Under 1lb per week on average, but only just, and there is more too it than that. Periods of losses, periods of gains. Periods of acclimatising myself to the changes in my lifestyle, and periods where my old habits threw me off track.

I'm so proud of myself for making it this far, and for getting back onto the wagon when events conspired to throw myself off. And I need to retain the memory of this feeling, so that I can look back on it in the future and keep myself going.

I've come a long way, but I can't lose sight of the fact that the journey is much longer and more complicated than a simple 12 month slog. I have to keep remembering why I've worked so hard.

This time last year I didn't hate myself or my body, but I didn't love it either. It was just something that I lived in. But now I feel pretty. I'm no supermodel, but I look in the mirror and I kind of like what I see. That's such a revolutionary feeling that it constantly amazes me. I just can't wait to keep going to see how much more I can amaze myself over the next year.