Well, not just sugar, but anything that turns into sugar after you eat it. You know, bread, potatoes, pasta, ect... This time of year is the worst. I've been trying so hard to make it through Thanksgiving and Christmas and now New Years, and still keep my blood sugar counts under control, but I'm not doing so well. Even though I'm trying to watch what I eat, it seems any simple carbs at all just spikes my blood sugar. This time of year with all the extra good food and sweets around, it's just awful. Now I'm feeling all depressed because everyone else had cornbread with supper and I didn't dare, and they'll be having cake, and my blood sugar is already over 200, so I don't dare.
I've had a weight problem all my life, which means I've had a food problem. Food has been my friend and my comfort. In my family food was what we mourned with, celebrated with, and did everything in between with. Suddenly my friend and comfort, which I still crave badly now since I'm depressed and upset, is my enemy. It's a hard blow, and one I understand in my mind, but it's not helping me accept things or deal with the way I feel right now.
I've had food battles all of my life. I went on my first diet when I was eight. Thanks to the battling, I've managed to keep my weight under two hundred, but I'm still too often about fifty pounds over my idea weight. The food battle has moved to a new level now. If I give in, not only will I fear the scales moving up, but I could actually end up at the ER, or even dead. That's what's moved the battle to the front lines, to this take-no-prisoners point, and me to the point where I want to just wave the white flag and give up already.
If you aren't a diabetic yet, but have a weight problem, please take a stand and start the battle now. You might never have to deal with being a diabetic if you take care of your health now. Believe me, you don't want to be here if you can help it. If you take care of your health, even if you become a diabetic, maybe it'll happen at fifty instead of forty, or maybe even sixty instead of fifty. My father was diagnosed in his early thirties. With my long spells of working out and keeping my weight down closer to normal, I put it off for almost ten years longer than he did. He took two shots a day, and so far I'm only on pills.
Believe me, I know it's no fun to diet, but it's so much easier to do when a bowl of low-cal fruit isn't going to push your blood sugar up, or even a bowl of Special K, or a baked potato. Pick your battles, pick your stand, and fight now, while you can still fight on your own terms instead of on the terms of a deadly disease. I know I wish I had fought harder. If I had only had one of those darn crystal balls. (Consider me your crystal ball.)