Fortunately, these revelations don't involve biblical freakishness, but they are revelations nonetheless.

But first, no change in my weight this week. A bonus, as I was expecting to gain. Of course, this means that I have no chance at Slimmer of the Year, but that's fine, I can enter next year, having lost and maintained my weight. It's all good.

Now, onto the revelations...

I thought I was going crazy. Well, technically I was already crazy, but I thought I was completely losing my mind.

Now, I'm not surprised that this has grown fairly old. I've been doing this for over a year now, and anything you do for a year straight can get boring. The honeymoon is over, the excitement has worn off and I was looking at what I was doing and thinking, "This is it. For the rest of my life."

It was depressing. Like my entry last week, I was looking for the final reward. Weight loss nirvana - when I finally achieve my goal weight and I maintain and it's dead easy and I never have to worry about it again.

But the scales were falling from my eyes. I WAS going to have to worry about it for the rest of my life. Maintenance wasn't going to be that much different to losing, it was going to be a long hard slog where I kept having to just try and make the best decisions I could.

Real easy to get whiney here. Why did it have to be so hard? Where was the big payoff? Why couldn't I go off into the sunset never having to worry about being a fat chick again?

Not only that, but I'd achieved a lot of my goals. I can buy the clothes I like now. Hell, I can go into chi chi designer stores on Chapel St (exclusive shopping area for non-locals) and try on whatever I like. I was THERE. I felt DONE. But I wasn't quite.

And I had nothing motivating me to take it over the finish line.

Slimmer of the Year was a failed attempt to give me one more thing to work for. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not stopping here. I'm not done. I want to see 65kg on the scale. Preferably for the rest of my life. But I'm not the girl I was in February 2004. I don't want the things she wanted so desperately, because now I have them.

I'm not that girl anymore.

Enter I Am That Girl Now. I found her from a link in a comment on another site. I followed the link.

Revelatory.

This woman had been where I was. She spoke my language, she knew what I felt and she'd stood on that edge, that slippery, slidey edge between staying on target and keeping the weight off or giving it all away.

And you know what? It was hard for her too. It still is. It's hard, there is no weight loss nirvana even when you get to goal. Just more of the same.

I wasn't going crazy. This was NORMAL.

Such a fucking relief.

Like treatment for my depression, it was just enough to hear I wasn't alone, I wasn't nearly as out of my mind as I thought I was and that it was OK, I would survive.

I was down, but not out.

This week, I've been very kind to myself. This week it's about water. That's all I have to concentrate on. If I get my exercise, great. If I stay within my points, fantastic. If I track, bonus. But the water is the thing.

There's no point freaking out and trying to focus on everything, because in the end I'll focus on nothing, feel like a failure and then I will give it all away.

So this week, water. 3 litres (100 ounces) every day.

Baby steps. It doesn't matter what size they are, every step forward is a step closer to goal.