Times Square, 12 a.m.

Went to dinner at Bolo last night, a Bobby Flay restaurant. Oh. My. God.

I ordered tapas for dinner, including Sauteed Squid & Bacon with Garlic Oil, Artichoke Heart with Quail Egg & Salmon Caviar, Piquillo Pepper Stuffed with Raw Tuna Salad, and Pork, Potato & Goat Cheese Skewer with Smoked Paprika. As an appetizer, we also shared Baked Manchego Cheese with Toasted Almonds, Yellow Pepper Romesco Sauce & Baby Arugula. In addition, I enjoyed a white wine sangria with hints of grapefruit and blood oranges. Those moaning sounds you heard last night weren't on HBO, they were me quivering from the delicious, satisfying tastes.

We got back to the hotel around 10:30, but I wasn't ready to call it a night, so I changed clothes and walked through the Times Square. And this night, what I noticed most, was how easy it was for me to be lost in the crowd.

When you're a super fat person, masses of people part for you out of fear or huddling closer to keep you at bay, a steely fortress of disgust. When I was a super fat person, I often felt like I lived in a bubble. I was an untouchable.

Last night, I walked alongside, behind, through and around crowds of people who didn't really care that I was there--or cared enough to give me a glance that was not loaded with contempt for my size. I was incognito. An interloper of sorts, knowing that once I lived on the other side of an invisible line. Now I had crossed over.

If I want to, I could keep walking away from that line and never look back. Some people who've been through WLS or great weight loss do. I don't know if I will or not. I like looking back every now and then as a reminder of where I came from. Not to rub my own nose or others in it, but rather as a sense of pride and accomplishment.

Crossing an intersection last night, I felt like I was leaving part of me on the other side of the street. If you took my picture with a stop-action camera and caught each second of every step, you might have seen me shedding skin, shrinking even. Each step was not only a step away, but a step to. Looking forward and looking back at the same time, I was stunned by the bright lights of possibility. This IS my life.