my journey to wellness

I’d much rather be a woman than a man. Women can cry, they can wear cute clothes, and they’re the first to be rescued off sinking ships.

- Gilda Radner

For me, the advantage to being a woman has more to do with choices. Women can work, or not. We can have babies, or not. We can stay home with the kids, or not. We can work full time, or part time, or not. We can look outside of our jobs for our identities, or not. We can lean on our men, or not. We can be independent, or not. We are allowed to share our feelings, or not. We are allowed to express ourselves, or not.

I’m not saying it’s easy to be a woman, or a person for that matter. And I know my ability to make choices is the product of my upbringing, my education, my social status, my family, my husband, my environment, my health, and so on. But I feel so lucky to be a woman.

And even luckier to be a mom. Happy Mother’s Day everyone.

Ah, the good old days … when we could go out as a family and order two adult meals and two kids’ meals. No longer. A kid’s meal just won’t do for my older daughter anymore.

Now, her meals are more expensive than mine.

It reminds me of when, as a kid, we’d go out for dinner for my dad’s birthday. We’d always go to the “fanciest” place in town. And that’s where I would always order the most expensive meal in town - the steak and lobster. My parents would always try to talk me out of it, but I would stick to my guns because that’s what I really wanted to eat.

I guess what goes around comes around.

I got some disturbing news the other day.

I’m an inch shorter than I thought I am. I won’t tell you what that magic number is, but let’s just say I don’t have a lot of excess height to play with.

That makes my BMI today 25.3 (officially overweight) as opposed to yesterday (when I thought I was taller) and my BMI was 24.5 (officially a normal weight).

Makes me want to go eat a donut.

Never eat more than you can lift.

- Miss Piggy

Kudos to all the single parents out there. I don’t know how you do it.

I know I couldn’t do it. When my husband is away, I just can’t seem to relax (though I always seem to be sleepy).

Everything is a bit harder, a bit more frustrating, and a bit less fun. I am blessed with lots of supportive family, but I still feel the crushing weight of the responsibility that is my children.

My girlfriend swears that in every couple there is a “nice” one and a “mean” one. I’ll let you guess which one I am. (No comments from the peanut gallery please.)

So when daddy! daddy! daddy! comes back tomorrow night, there will be much rejoicing. We’ll all be a little happier, and we’ll breathe a little easier. We’ll be back to being a family again.

My older daughter was away for the whole weekend - for the first time. I really missed her.

When she got back, her sister gave her a big hug and told her how much she missed her. Then, without skipping a beat, they went right back to fighting. Music to my ears.

I take supplements. All kinds. Right now my stash includes a multi, ferrous gluconate (a fancy name for iron), vitamin C, ASA, and chromium. In the past I’ve also taken ALA. Many diabetes books recommend even more supplements - like vanadium, CLA, omega 3s, and mushrooms (the non-hallucinogenic kind).

I used to pooh-pooh extra vitamins and minerals, oils and fungi as unnecessary. I eat well, so why do I need to supplement my diet?

I am also confused by all the information out there. Which vitamins go together, what facilitates what, which ones can be harmful and how do I finance all this pill popping?

I decided to start taking a few supplements after researching, talking with my dietitian, and trying to slow down the effects of my diabetes. I truly don’t know if they help or not. Do I feel healthier? No. Do I feel more energetic? No. Do I get sick less often? No. Am I slowing down my diabetes? I don’t know.

What I do know - I have very expensive urine.

You know why fish are so thin? They eat fish.

- Jerry Seinfeld

I know I’m supposed to eat more fish but sometimes I just can’t do it. That piece of salmon stares up at me from the plate but I just don’t feel like eating it. What is it? Is it the bones, or the texture or the oiliness? I don’t think that’s it. I think it’s because fish just goes so well with rice, and rice really isn’t in the edible radar for me these days.

Don’t get me wrong, I do sometimes eat restaurant sushi, but for me, home-cooked fish means big bowls of rice, salty pickles and green tea. Somehow, removing the rice from the equation means I’d just rather not eat fish at all.

So I think I’ll just have a sandwich. Tuna, anyone?

For a recent birthday I was given an anti-aging product. Something called an intensive treatment for face and neck - a ceramide advanced time complex (what the heck does that mean anyway?).

I can now report that the bags under my eyes are noticeably plumper.

It’s rather ironic, but now that I have diabetes, I seem to be more in tune with my physical self than I ever have been before.

Because of my diabetes I sometimes feel like my body is betraying me; but at the same time, I feel like I also have a much greater understanding of my body now. Before my diabetes, when my body spoke to me, I largely tried to ignore it. When it got fat, I just put bigger clothes on it. When it got tired, I just slept more.

It wasn’t until I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes that I really started to listen to my body. I made my body (and my baby’s body) a priority, and got in tune with it in a way I never had before. I spent my time (almost all my time) caring for my physical self. I fed myself properly; I exercised daily; I poked, prodded, tested and re-tested every day, day after day, ad nauseum.

For the first time in a long time, I actually ate when I was hungry, and didn’t eat when I wasn’t hungry. I started to eat less and then let my body tell me if it needed more. I was no longer afraid of the feeling of hunger. I worked on consciously telling myself there would always be enough food. (I’m convinced we have a primal instinct to inhale all food in sight just in case there won’t be any tomorrow).

I had never felt in tune with my physical self before my diabetes. I had never felt like I could count on my body to support me if I needed it. I had always felt awkward, overweight, self-conscious, and incongruous. My outside never matched how I felt inside. My outside was never really me.

That’s different now. Even though I’m older and greyer (or redder depending on the dye-job), I know I can count on my body. Though it’s far from perfect, it’s mine.