So. Frigging. Close.

Oh man, there has been a LOT of waiting and striving and falling off the wagon along the way, but today the scale said 9 st 8.5 lbs - just one and a half pounds from goal, and almost 2 stone down from my heaviest (11st 7lbs)!

I'm feeling like crap today (serious cold, aches and pains etc) and want nothing more than to curl up with a sticky toffee pudding and a pint of beer. But I won't. I'm going to keep on keeping on, because in a few days time, I will have achieved something I've been working on for - oh my God, I cannot even believe how long. Years.

I know it's only weight. I know that to a great extent it's vanity. I know there are far more important things in life. And I know 1.5lbs here or there does not really signify - I'm there, as good as, it's not like I'll look spectacularly different when the scale finally shows 9.7. And I know that we're all skinny when we're dead.

But I really feel like this has been the hardest thing I've ever done, and the symbolism of Getting To Goal - of actually having set myself a target and not giving up or settling, but having achieved it - will mean a LOT to me. More even than the delightful fact that my clothes are all too big now, particularly the ones I had to stop wearing for years because they were too small

The number is arbitrary; but achieving the goal says so much about my ability to persevere, to value myself, and to keep my promises to myself.

Once I get there (I finally, really believe I will get there, and soon, I can almost see it!), I won't just quit - the Dukan diet, with its 4 bajillion stages, will see to that, at least as far as controlling my intake goes! And I have a dream to take my nine and a half stone of squishy flesh and firm it up with cycling, swimming and weights. But I will be giving myself one decadent reward meal, and will be unashamedly proud of myself for climbing this godforsaken hill at last, at 30.

I cannot weight to tick this off!