If three different people tell you in the course of a single day that you have lost weight, it would definitely be cause for celebration. If you slip into an UK Size 10 pair of jeans from noted brand, which had been languishing on the hangers for months before you decided to take a chance and squeeze your corpulence into them yesterday, expecting to do a snake dance on the floor before you got said pair up your thighs, but instead find out you could pull them up, while staying upright, you would be popping the champagne. If the cargo trousers that stayed put on your hips in normal wear, now kept slipping off and revealing tatty underwear you should have switched with more glam ones, you would definitely be doing the war dance of victory.
And when the scale finally tells you you are down three kilos in the span of a month, you would want to go running amok, grabbing any terrified stranger in your path and hug them breathless. I think, the ones who need to be hugged are my absentia maids.