Weight a second

In order to kill time whilst low clouds trundle up the Thames blurring everything and rain thumps on the windows I've been looking at some old photographs. I dug out some pictures from the sponsored walk I did in support of Leukaemia Research (as briefly alluded to in the Geoff Thomas post a couple of days ago).
Now, I'm not exactly slim. And I have lost 9.5 kilos (one and a half stones) since 1st February. But looking at the pictures makes me think that I was ill for a long time before I finally fell ill (if you see what I mean). I look unhealthy.
The pictures were taken a year ago and I may post them up at a later date (or when I've lost even more weight, another two stones will do). It makes me wonder how much excess fluid I was carrying around even then.
You know that when you look for the signs with hindsight you can see too many. But everything I see and remember screams at me that I've been killing myself for too long now. I was ill before the walk. The walk didn't help. Then moving and the curse of flat pack furniture (why didn't I buy the divan!) and the stress of a new job. Blah, blah, blah, self-pity, voyage of discovery, self-help and so on and so forth.
I'll now dig out some photos from 2002 and the Australia/New Zealand trip and compare me to the 2005 version.
Ah, vanity at the age of 33.