Last Saturday I wrote of dropping out of my 230s for the first time since beginning this diet March 1, and I qualified the milestone with the understanding that what goes down must go up.

I did just that the next day, re-crossing the threshold and landing at 230.4 on March 25, but the days since have been astoundingly seesaw-less, leaving me at 225.4 as of this morning. Five pounds in four days.

I attribute it to being in the zone, for want of a proper term. My physiology has finally calibrated to the reduced caloric intake and I simply need nor want anything more. Case in point is these last two days in which my consumption has been 1,966 and 1,919 calories, respectively — while not feeling even slightly hungry. Up to this point, I’d be happy to finish a day at 2,600 calories and only feel partially famished. Trust me: it’s a moderately euphoric feeling.

That sensation took longer to arrive in 2006 when I started my descent from my all-time high of 263 that finished six months later with me at an all-time adult low of 208.  Interestingly enough it never arrived when I caught myself at 236 in July 2010 and reversed that trend. I was ultimately successful in getting back to 220, but I went no further because each and ever pound I surrendered was a battle — primarily because I wasn’t restricting my calories so determinedly.

So I spoiled myself at breakfast this morning. Not with chocolate-covered chocolate or waffles with extra syrup or a heaping bowl of sugar with some cereal in it. Nah. Instead I went krazee and awarded myself 12 ounces of 1% milk, instead of the usual 6 ounces.

Like I said: In. The. Zone.