B is for Body

I have a body. It is mine and I accept it. I am not being cruel when I say I am fat. I am being honest and truthful. It is like saying I am 29 years old, I am a girl, I have armpits. It’s nothing more than fact. When I say “I am fat” many people give me a pouty look and say “No, you’re not. Stop.” What? No, I’m not? Um, we can all see me. I’ve been fat since 6th grade and have only gotten fatter. It’s not like I’m a skinny girl bordering on anorexia saying I’m fat. I’m a hefty lady, closer to 300 pounds than 200.

So, I have a body. It betrays me often. I am clumsy. I do not often know why but some how I’m running into walls, edges of doorframes, knocking my head into my trunk while it’s up, etc. It does not produce enough insulin and the amount it does produce it is resistant to. I must inject myself with synthetic insulin and take pills for the myriad of symptoms that comes with diabetes. My body also does not allow me to be graceful.

I’ve been toying with exercise and completed an aerobic video yesterday. I must admit that it’s more like speed flailing. I do not move into each different step with fluidity. But while my body betrays me, is not graceful, and is fat, it’s mine.

So, my goal is to take more responsibility for it. This is a hard task. I recently read in a book that having diabetes and maintaining what is called “tight control” is like constantly having a colicky baby. At first you can handle it, but then give up. I read about people who gave up their medications for years, months, not just the days I’ve skipped. I read about a young lady who gets so frustrated that she three her external insulin pump across the room. I read about how this disease is rapidly increasing in younger and younger children, is all around sky-rocketing in Americans. Yet, it’s something many people know nothing about, it’s not something talked about as if we are guilty for our failing pancreases, and it’s not something people “do” in public. There we are-hiding in bathrooms, desk cubicles, at home, under desks, while testing blood sugars, while sticking needles in our skin, while being diabetic. We just want to be normal, appear normal. But we’re not. We have bodies that betray us- we have diabetes. But I accept it. It is mine.