I have been considered "obese" from the time I was 9 years old. Or, at least that's as far back as I remember. I had my appendix out at 9 and remember my parents' hushed tones with the doctor as he voiced his concerns over the amount of fat that he had to cut through to get to where he needed to be.
My life from that point on has been a roller coaster of fad diets, calorie counting, anorexia, working out, bulimia, and diet pills. I am now 30 and still obese. Morbidly so if you want to go by BMI.
And what has at least 21 years of obesity done to my body? That question got answered today. I was diagnosed with Diabetes. Nature's way of punishing the gluttonous way I've lived my life thus far? Possibly. But no amount of speculating can rinse away the fact that I did this to myself...
..and I am ashamed of that.
I know that Diabetes runs on both sides of my family. I know that being overweight is unhealthy for me and I knew there was a risk of it happening to me. But I still let myself balloon up to 315 pounds. I still ate sugary things and I still splurged when I really shouldn't have.
Yea, I've lost 50 of those pounds. But it feels like I still have so damned far to go. It's a daunting task. I'm fucking terrified. But I got myself into this mess and now I have to deal with the consequences.
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