4. What's the Skinny?

I used to be overweight. I had a lovely pear-shaped body inherited directly from my mum. Good child-bearing hips. A healthy figure. God I can't tell you how us women hate that term. It suggests "large" in our poor, advertising-adulterated minds (think a "healthy appetite" or a "healthy size" of anything). I admit my girl friends and I speak often about calorie-counts, diets, muffin tops (you know what I mean right? When the excess skin or fat pushes out a bit above the waist of your jeans?), bloating, and the way clothes fit. Diabetes took care of my weight "issues". Before I even realized it I had shrunk down to practically a wisp. Not only did I not have any fat anymore, I had no muscle either. My years of uncontrolled sugars kept me abnormally thin. I got used to seeing myself that way.

Women put themselves and each other under extreme pressure and scrutiny. I think my perception of normal became very warped. Have you ever seen an episode of "America's Next Top Model"? I had somehow decided that the sharp angles of those bodies were what I should be. A lot of it was subconscious. There is a line in the movie: "The Devil Wears Prada" that goes like this:
Andy: So none of the girls here eat anything?
Nigel: Not since two became the new four and zero became the new two
Andy: Well, I’m a six…
Nigel: Which is the new fourteen.

It's funny right? It's also becoming true. Take for example the Jennifer Love Hewitt fiasco. I don't know if you heard about this, but the gist was that some "unflattering" photos were taken of her in her bathing suit at the beach. She did not look like a runway model. She looked.... well, in my opinion she looked great. She was smiling. She was laughing. Playing in the water. I know this has been said already, but why couldn't she be admired for being happy? Admired for having a good time with her partner? I was envious of her apparent happiness in a good-for-you-I wish-it-was-me kind of way. Then the atrocious gossip began. It was shameful. Nobody is perfect... It is an impossible and impossibly childish cycle. We ridicule those in the public eye who are not perfect in our high opinions. AND we ridicule those who are. Because of jealousy, insecurity, and who knows what else.

The two most common and well known eating disorders are anorexia and bulimia. I have been witness to both and they damage the heart as well as the body. Those who succumb to these awful disorders live in a constant state of anxiety and failure. They feel as though they are failing themselves when they eat, and they are failing others if they don't. It is hard to imagine for anyone, as each case is different and differently difficult. It seems now though that a new and even more deadly strain of eating disorder has emerged. Primarily in young women with diabetes. Skimping or skipping insulin doses to avoid the potential weight gain they may bring after eating is becoming more and more prevalent. It is easy to see why. I myself would be lying if I said I had never done this in the past.

It can seem like an easy solution to eating what you want and maintaining or achieving a slim figure. Unlike anorexia, which depends on deprivation, which is nearly impossible, and saving yourself from the uncomfortable feeling of purging your stomach after a large meal, skipping insulin could seem like a good idea. Please hear me when I say that it is not.

In the world of Diabetes, we already have a slight obsession with food. We are already carb counters. We already know the calories and fiber and fat intake of everything. We already plan our meals and think about the sugars and count count count. All the fabulous early behavior of the two biggest eating disorders out there. Where do we stop? Where do we draw that line that divides us from obsessive compulsive behavior that takes us into the realm of "disorder" and makes this all UNhealthy in our strives to be healthiER?

It's vague. Dietitians, nutritionists, our GP, everyone.... will say "Hey you can do this, it can be simple and here is how..." But the ugly truth is that it often is not simple, and not everyone succeeds in managing it. I know, the idea of maintaining a certain figure or number on the scale is hypnotizing. Ahhh... but so is food... right? I love food. In fact I would put myself in the category of an emotional eater. Most people think of emotional eaters as those who are depressed and "eat their feelings". That's not really what it is. It's eating for any emotion. Yes, I want chocolate when I'm sad. But I also want it when I'm happy. When I want to celebrate....well, anything. When I miss my friends. When I am bored. When I am so frustrated. When I am comfortable and content. In fact the only emotional state I can think of that may not warrant celebratory OR conciliatory eating must be when I am distracted. And that's not really because I do not want to eat, it's just because I haven't thought of it. I guess that's what leads to my own weight gain.

Even this morning, The Scale and I had a pretty extreme argument.

We argue a lot actually.

That's usually when I am tempted to skip my morning insulin. Just to fit in to my skinny jeans a bit better (with less muffin-top haha). Then I have to mentally slap myself. I have a little mantra and tell myself severely: "Enough is enough, Angela." I don't like to use scare tactics on myself. I don't like to think of outrageous diabetic complications that are really not that outrageous at all but rather very real. Scaring myself generally would not be productive, and could lead to panicking myself unnecessarily. But sometimes that little nudge of "what if..?" is just what I need. What if something awful happens because I don't take my insulin this time in an effort not to gain an extra pound? You probably read my infection story.... not all diabetic complications are far away. Some of them can be immediate. Ick.

And so what is a food-loving-diabetic to do to stay healthily slim? I admit I am generally a lazy person when it comes to exercise. So let me rephrase: what is a lazy-food-loving-diabetic to do?
I had to grudgingly admit to my remaining option: The Gym. (If I thought my arguments with The Scale were bad....)

So I joined The Gym. I have decided The Gym is a male entity. He woo-ed me with gifts (a free gym bag and healthy living self-help book). He boasted a good time and fun activities (Yoga and martial arts-style classes), but I fear once the honey-moon phase is over that this relationship may become tedious. I am determined however. I will make this relationship work.... like with a man (or woman, depending on who you are): a little give-and-take, a little work, and a little self sacrifice and I will get what I want out of it.

I went the first time last night in fact. I swallowed my self-consciousness, put on my sweats and jumped on a bike. I set the controls for First Level, Random setting, 15 minutes. Easy right? I mean, I used to ride my bike all over in the summer. This couldn't be much different. HA!

1.45 minutes into my "workout" and I thought I would die. What was I thinking?

Have you seen Bridget Jones’ Diary? The scene when she's on the stationary bike and is going so hard she pretty much falls off? Yea that was me after 10 minutes. Suddenly that movie seemed a lot less funny.

I kept going though. I have a friend who is a personal trainer. She suggested going slow at first. Like 30 minutes a few times a week for cardio exercise and maybe one yoga class. I managed the 30 minute workout I am proud to say. Stepping off the treadmill at the end was like stepping out of a space shuttle after a moon landing. My legs didn't seem to know how to work right on solid ground. I must have looked ridiculous. 30 minutes may not seem like a lot, but for me... someone who has been very sedentary for so long because of my uncontrolled diabetes, it was a miracle. I literally bounced out of there at the end (even despite my moon-landing legs).

I am still not used to the size of my body now. I am not overweight by any means. I just got used to being a size 3, I got used to looking bony. I got used to having no energy, having to psyche myself up for climbing the front stairs to the house because the first stair was a bit bigger than the normal size (seriously... if I had a bag of groceries or something I would put it down to haul myself up by the railings because I couldn't walk up the three stupid stairs with my leg power alone. How sad is that?) Some of my favorite clothes don't fit anymore and that's annoying.

But I can now do something that I haven't been able to do in years: I can run in the park with my dog. It's exhilarating. I'd forgotten just how good that feels.

Oscar, the man in my life, my little min-dachshund, he's pretty thrilled too.

ttyl!
sugar.free.Ang