The other day I dragged out an old photo from the box in the laundry. It's a photo of me at my lowest ever adult weight. I stuck it on the fridge.

I'd hidden this photo away because it used to depress me - I'd look at it and compare how I'd once looked with how I looked now and get all upset with myself for putting the weight back on. Now I look at it and think - I did it once, I can do it again.

At the time I was working out every day, well every weekday. My son was an infant (and now he's 18, shows how long ago it was) and in childcare while I went to uni so I'd drop him off then go to the uni gym which was hella cheap and do either an aerobics class or weights. I'd get up and dress in my work out gear so I had no choice in it - either go to uni in trackies or work out then get changed.

I had a really good holistic doctor then, and we did accupuncture and relaxation exercises to help me lose weight and to build up my self esteem. On top of that, I had a couple of other motivators: after losing about 5-6 kilos, a friend visited from interstate. I waited all weekend for him to say something but he never mentioned my weight loss. Finally, I asked him if he thought I'd lost weight and he said that he hadn't noticed. He was coming back to visit a few months later and I was determined that next time the loss would be so blindly obvious he'd have to notice.

The other motivator was, of course, a guy.

When I look at the photo and think about myself back then, I remember not so much feeling smaller - my whole focus was on how far I had to go not on celebrating my achievement - but feeling much happier and more alive. I was a ball of endorphin-stimulated energy and couldn't sit still. I glowed.

Best of all, I could put my toe in my mouth. Now that might not seem like a big deal, who wants to put their toe in their mouth anyway, right? But when I was a kid, my sister could bend her foot to her mouth and I couldn't. I was a chubby kid and not very flexible. I used to try and try but could never do it. I remember the day, sitting on my old brown vinyl couch in my old fake wood panel lined lounge room - for some reason I had decided to test my flexibility and I got my foot in my mouth. Sure I've down that many a time, but this time it was literally my foot in my mouth. For once that was a cause for celebration... who'd have thought?

I rang my sister and told her. The victory was mine, twenty odd years later. She couldn't even remember doing it. She had on her lets-smile-and-nod-and-back-away-from-the-crazy-person voice.

It all fell apart of course. I found out the guy wasn't interested and that sent me into a state of the blehs. Then I stopped going to the doctors. It was all or nothing back then. Either 1,000 calories a day or 10,000. Once I missed a few days at the gym, I stopped going altogether. I had exams at uni and personal shit and god knows what else. So it all fell in heap. All I have left is that photo.

I look at that photo and amaze myself with the drool-inducing hotness of my legs. Why did no one tell me back then? I remember I used to do leg exercises all time - I'd point and flex my feet while talking on the phone, sometimes even do air pedalling. They must have worked.

I look at that photo and amaze myself at the flatness of my stomach and the nothingness of my boobs (hey, can't win them all). I am wearing baggy clothes, many sizes too big. It never ended my head to shop for a smaller size.

I look at that photo and admire the things you can't see. The energy and the glow. I want to be that person again. Maybe not with the bad perm this time though.