You Mean I’m Not Cured?

Nearly one year ago I had myself a minor epiphany of sorts. If you’re curious about the details, read this. But the short of it is: on August 12, 2007, I developed a near instantaneous and rational fear of diabetes. The good news is it was enough to flip The Switch but good. By cutting out high glycemic foods and not lifting a finger in the process, I lost over twenty pounds just over two months:


As is my wont, I blew it. Same sad story most of us have experienced many, many times (and will, no doubt, many more times to come). For those of you keeping score at home, here’s the damage:


If you’re just tuning in, about a month ago I finally decided to get my rear back in gear and lose some weight. That lasted exactly one week at which point I finally decided to get my rear back in gear and lose some weight. That lasted until I hit the road for eleven days.

Now I’ve given out some really great advice in the past about maintaining a diet while away from home. Of course, if you think I have any ability to follow it myself, then you’re confusing me with … um … a … a highly successful dieter person. (I was hoping to name one specifically, but none of the six billion people I know is jumping to mind.) Needless to say I gained about a half pound a day while I was gone. But that isn’t the bad part.

scaredLast Friday, while Beth was checking her blood sugar, I gave her my finger (no, not that) and asked her for a glucose reading. I hadn’t checked it in at least two weeks and figured the current see-food diet meant one was in order. It was 161 and yes, this photo here represents exactly how I felt. Worse, the next morning, before breaking my very short fast, it was still 116. By comparison, recent morning readings landed in the 70s and 80s.

So this is it folks. I’m back on! Nothing can stop me now.

Except maybe Cheez-Its. No, no, … seriously. Nothing can stop me now.