Ever been lost and had that awful feeling that you’re just walking in circles, praying you find your way home before you stumble on a grizzly bear…or a serial killer?

A year and a half ago, I started a weight loss challenge with my brother and lost 50 pounds in six months. Then, like so many others have done countless times, I derailed myself with a chain of excuses that would make a politician proud. And here I am within 3 pounds of my top weight. Again. The number glaring back up at me from the scale this morning: 378.

Jesus.

Those who’ve never been touched by emotional issues with food can’t get their minds around this. Eat when you’re hungry, stop when you’re full. Simple enough. Unfortunately, though, it isn’t that simple for those of us whose internal wiring seems to have been engineered by Sara Lee.

People who have this problem with food don’t grow up wanting to be fat. As children, we imagined ourselves as doctors and firemen and astronauts just like anyone else. Not once do I remember playing with my toy kitchen as a child and thinking “Damn, I wish I could fit more food in this fridge. Stupid Mattel!”

As a teenager, I never drank or experimented with smoking cigarettes or drugs. I was the quintessential good girl. Just the thought of a disapproving look from one of my parents was enough to keep me in line. (Some say I was saving it up for later). Because I was petrified of turning to any substance that might garner disapproval, I turned to the one thing that was readily available: food.

I’ve come close to weight loss success twice in my life: once when I was put on a 750 calorie a day diet by a quack doctor and the aforementioned 50 pounds I lost last year. Twenty-something years of fighting myself. Banging my head against the damn wall just doesn’t burn enough calories.

I keep saying it and I really do believe it: 2012 is going to be my year. It’s time to go to war on my demons instead of myself – and the first casualty of war has already been taken: sugar. I’ve given it up and I feel great about it. I may need food to survive, but I don’t need sugar. I’m fairly certain that if sugar was that healthy, Twizzlers would be a food group.

Other casualties of war for 2012 will include processed foods, diet soda, and the imprint of my ass on the sofa. But first thing’s first: let’s get the scale to budge down to what I call the next set of tens. I’m at 378 right now. Let’s get that number down to the 360’s. I’ll settle for 369.

2012 is going to be my year. It’s not about resolutions, it’s about forward motion. Now. I heard a great quote yesterday that bears repeating:

A year from now, you’ll wish you started today.

I know exactly how that feels. Ready or not, here I come!