"The Change"

Don't worry, I'm not about to start harping on about THAT "change"...you know, the one that tends to happen when your ovaries decide to shrivel up. I'm only 27, and while the constant heat waves here in Adelaide have caused me to have hot flushes like my menopausal mother, I am in fact talking about another type of change I am about to be forced into undertake. 



So it all starts with a saying that I myself have sprouted off a million times before. It's one that my mother taught me. See, my Mum and I are kind, compassionate people who are very non-judgemental. Unless you wear orange. Mum and I are NOT orange-appreciating people. ANYWHO, Mum taught me this: that people aren't "fat". No, they are "comfortable" if their single and "content" if in a relationship.

Yep, my name is Heidi and I am content and have been for the last 12 months.

Now, it's not like I'm completely oblivious to my supposed contentness...I've noticed the kilos creeping up. However, a trip to see my Diabetes specialist last week kinda...well, let's just say that it really kicked me in one of my recently accumulated fat rolls (My Mum would say that I was just "preparing for the winter months". Denial much, mother?)

So, in the spirit of honesty and blogging and what-not...*Looks nervously around the group* My name is Heidi...and I'm a Type 1 diabetic with - supposedly - Type 2 diabetes.

It's OK. I'll just wait for the collective gasps/head scratches/eye-rolls at my dramatics to finish.

Alright, so I've always known there was a difference between the two. For those playing at home, Type 1 is where your body stops producing insulin, and Type 2 is where your body resists the insulin in your body. Now, I'm not going into details about insulin, because honestly, I'm not Wikipedia. All you need to know is that insulin keeps you alive and without it, you're a big. fat. dead. Oh, sorry. You're a big "content" dead.

No "F" words on THIS blog, people.

The fact that I've spent the last 19 years relying on insulin injections and more recently, my insulin pump, hasn't stopped my STUPID body deciding to CRACK THE SHITS (yes, I will use "S" words occasionally) and start RESISTING the insulin I'm putting into it. I swear, it's like my brain is 27 years old, the rest of me is 5 years old and it has decided that it's waaaaay past nap time & therefore has felt the need to throw itself on the floor and start screaming and crying and all-of-a-sudden become DEMANDING.

WTF body??????

Sadly, I can't bribe it with a cookie because, ya know, I'm diabetic twice over now, so instead, I'm being forced inspired by my doctor to...gulp...

LOSE. WEIGHT.

I thought the haircut disaster of '99 was a challenging time in my life (I got a bob cut. Totally gave me "cherub face" and did nothing for my neckline).

Moving on, a few days ago, I made what I'm calling "The Change". My doctor said to keep off the carbs (so like, everything I LIVE FOR - bread, pasta and rice), go on Type 2 diabetic medication and basically just harden the fuck up (OK, so sometimes the occasion calls for a tiny little "F" word here and there). It's a lifestyle change, not the end of the friggin' world and if I want to be healthy and complication-free the rest of my life, then this has to happen. I get it, I'm not dumb.

But I totally am whingey.

So now I'm eating a lot of lettuce and cucumber and carrot and avocado and banana and rockmelon and tomato and pumpkin and pear and broccoli and zucchini and chicken and fish and capsicum and mushroom and grapes and apple and corn and kill me now.

Seriously, all I want is a sandwich.

*Sigh*. I'll keep you posted on my progress