October 25, 2007

I hate my body. No no, not in the normal my-boobs-hang-to-my-bellybutton, my-rear-end-needs-warning-beepers kind of way. I'm beginning to hate it in new, heretofore un-thought-of ways.



First, I should probably provide you with a smidge of pertinent background info. I'm hypoglycemic. In fact, I'm a stupid over-achiever in the area of insulin-production. I'm so hypo-glycemic that during insulin tolerance tests, I black out from low blood sugar - in record time. Drink the nasty goo - out cold in 20 minutes. By medical standards, I'm rather fascinating. By life standards...this much insulin - stinks.



Insulin helps store fat. Let's see, I produce whoppin' boatloads more insulin than I need. Want to guess about how easy it is for me to store poundage? Oh yeah, like taking candy from a baby...and gluing it to my sitting-down-side. I gain weight so easily, I swear I can smell a sugar cookie candle and gain 1/2 a pound!



Not to mention, that low blood sugar is a self-fulfilling prophecy. It works overtime to keep itself in business. It happens something like this... Put any form of carbohydrate into my body, and it will temporarily raise my blood sugar. In response, my pancreas kicks into high warp gear and produces enough insulin for a third world country. When the insulin is dumped into the system, it eats the sugar from the food, and because I have so much of it - most any free sugar in the system. I immediately (and quickly) lose nearly all blood sugar - making me hungry, tired, shaky, irritable...and in search of more carbohydrates...whereupon the entire cycle will start over again. See the issue?



So, while it has become a bit cliche in the past few years, for me, its true. Carbs beget carbs. The more I eat - the more every cell in my person screams out for them! Its a vicious, mind-altering circle. It sounds so simple. Avoid high carb, high glycemic index foods - and curb the appetite of the beast. Oh yeah, and Rome was a 24 hour project.



On the rare occasion that I've managed to break the choke-hold of the beast, I do feel about 1001 times better. The overwhelming issue is attempting to battle my way free from the half-Nelson hold of carbohydrates. All it takes is one slip-up, one day of stress, one moment of weakness...and my body starts this death spiral straight toward the runway. I'm here to report, I've crashed an entire squadron since I started this Fat-A-Thon.



Today wasn't quite an all-out tailspin day, but I wouldn't have won any airshow awards for free-flight either. I started out like a rookie at Indy, full pedal to the metal, and ready to win. I had two eggs with cheese for breakfast, and coffee with sugar-free creamer (bleck). I felt like a million bucks! Protein tames the hunger beast, the carb-craving Cyborg, and the energy vampires - all in a neat little package. Then...dum dum dum dum.... it was lunch time. And there, the story shifts from triumphant tale, to tragic saga.



The tragedy of lunch speaks to those limitations of life-in-the-real-world that we discussed previously. In the perfect diet-vaccuum of RealityTV or Hollywood Hottie, I would have a house full of healthy, vegetable/protein food choices. In the time and finacial limitations of my world, I found myself staring blankly at carbo-land. Sure, sure, I had planned on having broccoli for lunch. Then I actually saw and smelled the broccoli - and decided that botulism didn't sound too appealing. This left me hungry and desperate, very bad bedfellows for a dieting diva.



Long story long, I caved. I jumped off the deep end of the carb train - right into a vat of tater tots. They were there. They were easy. They were sooooooo goooood.......... Rat tails and bat farts, I doomed myself. I ate the wonder taters, I got sleepy. Damn blood sugar.



Having red-baroned my own bi-plane for the day, I decided to half-way salvage dinner. I did embrace the can o' tuna dinner entree, but I did so with the help of more than a few savory saltines. So yes, the omega-happy, protein-rich tuna was way high on my "Yes!" list, but the vehicles that delivered it to my hanger...were less than ideal. Better some good than none...at least that's what I thought.



Then tonight, it hit. For the second time this week, I wanted to yack my cosmic "cookies" to the moon. As I sat there, contemplating worshiping at the great white porceline alter, I had myself a mighty epiphany. I felt like this two days ago, a few hours after I had an oh-so-healthy lunch of tuna salad. No woogies in between, no other signs of malaise. Just waiting-to-wretch a few sordid hours post-tuna. Fabulous. Now my stupid body has gone and decided to hate something that's actually good for me.



Told you. I'm beginning to hold some contempt for my personal vessel. I'm beginning to hate my body for reasons entirely unrelated to the amount of pudge I own. I think I may have a problem here with person-to-pudge-PR. I need to do a better job at selling myself to me or there could be a full-scale revolt. That might be difficult to mediate...



I suppose I could eat a case or two of Hershey bars, and hope that by the time I come out of the sugar coma, the warring factions will have reached a peace treaty.



Nah, my luck they'd wait for me to arrive, and promptly order lunch.



- Alicia Hall - losing weight, and my mind, to raise awareness of pediatric cancer

http://www.crazycancermom.com/



Please feel free to email me at alicia@crazycancermom.com or comment here - all are welcome!