Do my thinking for me.

I made another attempt to get the medical profession to deal with my raised blood sugar levels. I am regularly getting early morning readings over 8, which is frankly pants. It has shot up in the past six months. It is even worse than it was two months ago, but can I get a so-called professional to even listen to me? Not a hope.

I got nowhere with the doctor last time, so I thought I would book straight into the diabetic clinic and see a nurse. Maybe I could get some sense out of someone who deals with the disease day in and day out.

I made the appointment, and within an hour the nurse had phoned back to tell me I wasn't diabetic. I'm not on the diabetic list and what's more I shouldn't be using my blood sugar meter!

You are kidding me, right? I should just get ill and wait until the gods in the NHS deem me sufficiently sick to be trusted with using a simple kit. Excellent.

Maybe I should not use my bathroom scales either, then I wouldn't be fat. There are a whole load of possibilities if I take this idea into my everyday life. If I don't use traffic lights, there is no traffic. If I don't use deodorant, I won't smell. If I don't look at my bank account, I won't be overdrawn. How simple my life could be! I would never have to take responsibility for anything ever again.

Oh great and glorious NHS gods!
Please do my thinking for me!
I am not worthy.
I am not worthy.
I am not worthy.
Amen

Sugar.

1. I have lost a pound.
2. My sugar is now over 8 in the morning.
3. I don't think my doctor is really addressing the problem.
4. Going to continue the not eating campaign in the hope that I live long enough to benefit from the results.
5. Not happy. Very worried.

Last in a Long Line of Resolutions.

OK, so I'm not normal, apparently. Max knew I was going to put that. He says that with what I eat and the amount of exercise I do, I should be as thin as a racing snake, or at the very least losing some weight. He noted that the lack of exercise I've been getting over the winter has had no effect at all on my weight and suggested that something was 'broken'.

So I went for a barrage of tests and they all came back normal, apart from the blood sugar, which is up a bit, but they don't seem to want to treat it. So WTF am I going to do?

I have tried Weight Watchers, healthy eating, lots of exercise and cutting out treats. None of them make an iota's difference to my weight, which is a constant 13st 1 at the moment. I have changed jobs to reduce the stress. Still no effect (well, a few pounds, but nothing to write home about).

Clearly, I must be deluding myself about how much junk I'm eating and how much effect it has on my body. I am surely deluding myself about the amount of exercise I do. Maybe all those sessions at the gym were not the heart pumping, fat burning experiences I thought they were. I need to do more and eat less.So, I am going to stop eating. No, I don't mean fasting completely. That would last until about lunchtime. I'm going to stop having meals altogether and just eat a slice of toast or an orange or something pathetically small until such time as my body shrinks, my blood sugar normalises or I kill someone due to hunger induced bad temper.

Tantrum

I remember XX, who was diabetic, throwing irrational tantrums everytime he got tired and short of sugar. I have started doing the same thing.

He used to punch people. One time he drove home from work so short of sugar that he drove off the road into a hedge. The poor policeman that pulled him out of the car tried to see what the dog-tags round his neck said. XX thought he was being robbed and punched the young copper. Next thing XX knew, he was waking up in hospital, feeling a bit rough. He went into work the next day, but the assaulted policeman stayed home with concussion. Fortunately he didn't press charges.

Today, I had a full day working, which wiped me out. I got in and really just needed to lie down. I didn't get the chance and by the time my husband got home, I was ready to flip. I ended up screaming and throwing kitchen items around and basically having a complete toddler tantrum, which is somewhat unbecoming of a middle-aged lady.

When I checked my sugar it wasn't low. It was 6.7, which is fairly normal. It is however, a whole point below what my fasting sugar has been running at. Basically, despite the fact I have plenty of sugar in my system, I can't get at it. Or maybe I'm just turning in to someone who throws violent hissy fits if they get a bit tired.

Good God, I hope not.

Thought for the Day

I must not eat half a frozen cheesecake.

I must not eat half a frozen cheesecake.

I must not eat half a frozen cheesecake.

I must not eat half a frozen cheesecake.

I must not eat half a frozen cheesecake.

Enforced Inactivity.

Thank God the snow is starting to melt. I don't know about you, but I have been stuck indoors for what feels like weeks. It has been a nightmare trying to get out in the snow to do anything. I haven't managed to do any of the active stuff I like doing. I can't get to the pool or go climbing or get to the gym or anything.

All this inactivity makes me tired to. The less I do, the less I want to do. It's like the will to act disappears and the desire to slump asserts itself. I've found myself pacing the house not able to settle to anything. I mean there's plenty to do. I could give the place a good clean up for a start, but I don't want to do anything. Even watching a film all the way through is a test of concentration I don't feel up to!

My blood sugar levels are fairly constant. I've done them every day first thing in the morning and they range between 6.9 and 7.9 without fail. This is not good. Prior to pregnancy my fasting sugar was almost always 4.5.

I have religiously ticked off what I'm eating, in terms of food groups and once again I'm eating too much bad stuff, even though I am trying to avoid it. It's like my brain just switches into idiot mode when it sees and ice-cream. Doh! I ate it again.

WHY can't I stop myself? What the hell is wrong with me? Didn't Britney Spears sing a song about that? ('Oops I did it again' or something like that.) I want to bang my head against a door in frustration. Hell, she probably did a song about that too. (Oh, no, it was 'Don't go knocking on my door.' I was close.)

I wish I could afford to go to Fat Camp or Anti-Fat Camp or whatever it is. I'd probably hate every minute, having all my freedom removed, but it seems to be freedom of choice that defeats me everytime. If I had no freedom of choice I couldn't sin. Damn, I am so frustrated by this.

Yours, still weighing 13st 3, and slowly going nuts with it,

Jem

Another Fresh Start.

Oh yes, I am sooo positive. I am going to be slim and beautiful. I am going to have a wardrobe to die for. I am going to be fit and healthy and live to be a hundred and ten. I am going to count food. I am not going to get too busy and lose faith. I am going to be a goddess. I will accurately judge portion sizes. I will easily eschew excess. I will float through life, light as a fairy. All this I will achieve before Easter. I am that superwoman.

Day 1: 13st 3, fasting sugar 7.9
Day 2 13st 3, fasting sugar 7.6
Day 3 13st 2, fasting sugar 7.1

See? It's already happening.....

(NB for those not oh fay with blood-sugar levels, a healthy fasting sugar level should be below 5. Two hours after a meal blood sugar should not be above 8. It certainly shouldn't be nearly 8 a good 13 hours after the last morsel passed my lips.)