It’s not that I was surprised to have developed diabetes. In early 2003, when I was diagnosed, I was pushing 300 pounds and coming out of several years of serious depression. I have a family history of diabetes on both sides of my family, and my father is diabetic, currently suffering complications from his past poor management of the condition. Although I was a scrawny child, I was asthmatic and not into sports. I began putting on weight in high school, yo-yo’d up and down in college, and once I entered the working world I began a steady climb in clothing sizes. Looking back I can see that the more freedom of choice and the more of my own money I had, the worse I ate. I worked at Grandy’s® in high school which gave me access not only to my own cash but also to all the fried chicken, bacon, and cinnamon rolls I wanted. Then in college I was on a meal plan, which gave me access to an all-you-can-eat buffet three times a day (and it was really good food, too – I always looked forward to Oktoberfest and those chocolate rum balls…mmmmmmmm). Once I became a working adult I had real money, and, being single, started eating out all of the time. Plus there was no one cooking for me – I discovered that ordering a pizza is a big time saver when you have stacks of papers to grade!
Oh, sure, I dieted – all of the usual suspects: Weight Watchers®, Jenny Craig®, Low-carb, Low-fat, Low-salt, Low-food! I even did some fasting. But the pounds always came back, and always with a few of their friends. I hated exercise, but tried walking, biking, Curves®, the YMCA, the equipment at my apartment complex (boy, I wish I had access to that now), and I could never stick with it more than a few weeks.
So I wasn’t surprised that I had developed Diabetes. Nope, not at all. What shocked me was the WHEN. I expected I would start dealing with this when I was in my 50’s or 60’s; I figured I had another 20 years of eating what I wanted before I had to worry about blood sugar. But an array of bad eating habits, inactivity, and family history to give it a boost brought my diagnosis crashing down a little early. In hindsight, I am really grateful. But at the time it just ticked me off royally.
I decided right away to…um…stretch the truth…just a little. I was dating for the first time in years, and I was afraid that the word “Diabetic” would scare him away. Plus his parents, if they heard the word “Diabetic,” might encourage him to look for another, healthier, girl. As for my family and friends? I feared condemnation, nagging, and worst of all, the dreaded “I told you so.” Besides, let’s be honest: I was ashamed. I was ashamed that I had let myself get into this condition, and I was just as ashamed that I had no idea how to get myself out.
So in the Spring of 2004, after that devastating chat with Dr. V, I told pretty much everyone that I had been diagnosed with “high blood sugar” – that I was borderline diabetic, but of course it was completely reversible – I just needed to lose a few pounds, walk a little more, no sweat…it’s all under control…really, all under control…just a little tweaking to do… riiiiiiiiiiight!
Liar, Liar, pants on fire!I told myself that this was my big “wake-up call,” the thing that would finally make me really change, and for some people, a diagnosis like this is exactly that. But the truth was that I was in serious denial. I was not just lying to my boyfriend, family, and friends. I was lying to myself, and the trouble with lying to yourself is that you tend to believe it!
I have to say: I did give it a good-faith effort at first – I went to Diabetes Education Class, joined the Y, tried to change my habits. Plus I got engaged in April 2004, so the prospect of wearing a wedding dress gave me a good push in the right direction (By the way, I did tell him the truth, long before we got married). I managed to lose 27 pounds that first year! And I maintained that weight until the Fall of 2007, when I had my real wake-up call and started losing weight again (story for later).
I call those first 27 pounds my "willpower weight" because a combination of external pressure and simply gritting my teeth (aaaaaaaaaarrrrrggggggghhhh!) was what lost those pounds. But I've got news for you, kids: willpower is not the way to lose weight (unless you are one of those annoying people who have 10 pounds to lose and thinks omigodiamSOFAT! Willpower might actually work in your case). Neither is external pressure the way to lose a significant amount of weight. Why? Because both willpower and external pressure are going to come and go. External pressure is completely out of your control, and although you can do things to encourage it (e.g. joining WW or asking friends for support), you can always escape external pressure if you want to badly enough. As for willpower? HA! It is no more possible to maintain willpower over the long term than it is to run a marathon at 6 minutes per mile. And willpower gets weaker with each subsequent "diet." This is why 95% of those who try to lose weight fail!*
Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m bound and determined to be part of the 5%!
*Disclaimer: some believe 95% is an inaccurate statistic. I sure hope it is!
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