In 2025, I thought a lot about

I’ve always liked numbers and paid attention to them. But I didn’t realise it would reach an entirely new level in 2025.

Numbers began to fill my waking hours. Morning rituals became readings and recording: blood pressure and weight. What’s today’s weight? How much have I lost since I started? How much in the last month? 

Every meal had numbers. Calories, carbs percentage, grams. I spent a lot of time in supermarkets reading labels and comparing carbs and sugar quantities, the number of calories in various types of food, weighing and recording anything I ate.

Every walk, a calculation. Steps, kilometres, minutes. I memorised the length of various walks I did in my neighbourhood. I even started recording things like gardening or mowing the lawn.

I logged it all in apps: what I ate, what I walked, what I took.

Even time became something to count. The days until the next blood test, the three-month mark when I’d wait, weirdly excited, to see if my blood sugar level had gone down.

All of this started with a blood test result so high that the diagnosis was done immediately: I was suddenly a person with type 2 diabetes and high blood pressure.

At that time of my life, I was finally at peace with my weight. I had no clue what my blood pressure was, or what a normal blood sugar level should be. 

Studies showed that losing more than 10% of your weight in the first few years after diagnosis gave you a really good chance to achieve remission of type 2 diabetes. Remission would mean that my blood sugar levels returned to a safe, non-diabetes level in the long-term, without the need for medication.

But to achieve this, I needed a radical change of diet and regular exercise I could achieve.

It’s been interesting to see how people respond to these numbers about my body.

Doctors rarely mention weight. They care about the blood pressure readings, the lab results, the slow downward curve.

Friends and colleagues notice the weight lost. How much? How fast? What’s your secret? They want to borrow the method, with little thought of what their own bodies need.

We’ve built a culture that celebrates weight loss more than health, and rarely asks what actually nourishes a person, their body, their context, their life.

While most people see how I look, I see better sleep, more energy, and how much easier it is now to be active.

My goal was never a number on the scale, but a normal blood sugar level and feeling healthier.

I’m pleased to say I’ve reached that goal.

My blood sugar is normal now, without medication. My blood pressure is ok-ish. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been easier than I expected. My brain, overloaded with numbers, actually helped for once. I didn’t have many cravings. Even so-called “sad food” became enjoyable. That still surprises me.

Losing so much weight, though, was unsettling. At first, I didn’t recognise myself in the mirror, or how I moved, or how my clothes felt. Shopping was strange. I had no idea what size I was anymore. I started writing it down - new numbers - especially for bras, because it kept changing.

Since last November, I’ve lost about a third of my body weight. Over forty kilos, or roughly six and a half stone. That’s four clothing sizes. People are impressed, and I understand why. A year ago, I wouldn’t have believed it either. 

What I’ve learnt is that I didn’t need extraordinary willpower. Just the steady motivation of wanting to feel better, and the awareness of what was at stake if I didn’t.

I’ve always liked numbers, and I’m good at remembering them. But this year, there were too many, and they took over.

Now, I’m starting to let them go. Sometimes I forget to log my meals or check my steps, and it feels good. Like space opening up again.

It’s been an important journey, but I’m more than these numbers.

In 2026, I hope to enjoy a functioning body, not measure it. That would be plenty.