I'm sitting in the car, stuck in traffic. The long line of cars ahead of me sweep until the horizon...and beyond. 15 minutes stretch to half an hour, half an hour soon turns into an hour in a half. We're crawling at a pace slower than a baby's first steps, and that's only when we we're moving at all. The noise is awful; impatient drivers rest their hands on the shrieking horn and just forget to leave go. It's nearing 6:00, and I'm getting hungry. Not a problem, you might say, and you'd be right. Usually.

Except that I've made a rule which I firmly keep. No food in the car.

It sets me thinking. Here I am, my stomach complaining loudly for food, and I'm ignoring it. Because I'm on a diet. Because I worked hard to lose weight. Because I don't want to gain it back.

Does that meant that losing weight made me a prisoner for the rest of my life? That I'm jailed behind my frantic desire to keep my figure forever? Am I denying myself the freedom of enjoying life, savoring food, licking that chocolate up to it's last precious bit?

I think back to those pre-diet days. The days when I was overweight and ate like a hog. When the word 'exercise' was not in my dictionary. Was I really freer then?

The thought sombres me. Losing weight was supposed to give me the pure, fresh taste of freedom. Instead...

The word lingers in my thoughts, bitter and sour. I'm a prisoner to food, just like I was then. No difference.

Except there is a difference. It's me.

I'm different. I look great, I feel great! I'm free, free from gluttonous overeating, free from being a prisoner to food, from snatching at whatever lies on the table, or in the fridge, or the pantry.

I'm FREE!!! The word makes my heart light, my chest swell in joy. Free. Totally, utterly...free!

I know sometimes I've got to hold myself back, to refrain from indulging when I'd really like to.

But I'm free.

Because food no longer rules me. I'm the one making the choices.