Dear Sam Wood,
First up, I want to say I’m sorry.
I never meant to hurt you.
I had high hopes for our relationship. Really, I did.
I thought we would be great together, a match made in heaven: you, a spunky young fitness dude who could tell me what to eat and how to exercise; me, a girl who sometimes undoes the top button of her jeans when she sits down.
When I signed up for your 28 Day program, I pledged that I would be loyal to you forever. In sickness and in health. For richer or for poorer.
At that point, I was already looking back on the “old Zoe” with disdain.
“Old Zoe” ate cake for breakfast. “Old Zoe” thought Doritos, guacamole and wine was a healthy dinner.
“Old Zoe” sometimes got breathless walking up the stairs and tried to laugh it off in front of her coworkers while her lungs lit themselves on fire and exploded. “Old Zoe”, I decided, was dead to me.
The weekend before the program began, I told my friends to forget what I looked like. It's possible the words "I'm going to be so thin and glowing with health next time you see me that you won't even recognise me and might be intimidated" passed my lips. But I can't confirm.
It would be sad, I pondered, that I wouldn't be able to fit into any of my clothes anymore, but I guess it would be a good excuse to buy an entire new wardrobe in a size eight.
Or size six. Did they make size four in Australia?
Who knew how fit and thin I would become? Would I have to order from a specialist clothing store for superfit Instagram models? I wouldn't mind, I supposed, so long as the delivery time wasn't too long.
Yes - I saw the potential problems and I faced right up to them.
Sam, when I looked into your eyes staring back at me from my computer that first Monday morning, I really thought this would be the start of our new life together.
It lasted about 45 minutes.
That first day, I caved and ate chocolate fondue for morning tea, which was weird, because even I do not normally eat chocolate fondue on an average weekday morning.
I guess it was partially the fact that I couldn't move my legs, having never done more than five squats in a row before.
I jumped back on the bandwagon with a delicious egg salad for lunch and fell right back off again by eating the rest of a tub of caramel ice-cream on the pretence of "cleaning out the freezer".
(Sam, I know you said to clean out the freezer before we started the program. Again, I am sorry. I am not great at taking instructions).
The next few days passed in a blur of illicit eating. I knew it was wrong, but it felt so right! There were no limits to my hunger!