I guess I'm gonna have to do something different here.

Welp, I went to the doc to get the results of the blood work I had taken last week. It turns out that my sugar is high. High enough to be deemed “pre-diabetic.” Pre-diabetic. That means that my weight has finally caught up with me. Caught up to me and has almost overtaken me. If I let it go any further, it could have disastrous, potentially DEADLY effects on my health.

Not only are they saying that I’m pre-diabetic, they are telling me that my cholesterol is high. My healthy levels are low, and my bad levels are high. Beautiful. Just freaking beautiful.

Can I be real with you? Thanks. There is no other way for me. It would be great to sit here and “claim” the promises of God for myself. To grab ahold of all kinds of healing scriptures, and start “commanding” my body, and all of that good “faith movement” stuff that I wholly believe in.

But guess what. If I do all that, and then continue stuffing candy bars and sodas and cakes down my throat, I’m not too sure I will find my prayers going up as “sweet smelling incense” to our God. This is entirely my fault. Ok, not all entirely. Some of the cholesterol may be hereditary. However, I did not come into a 40 BMI by birth! As a matter of fact, when I was a young girl, my family used to call me “tiny hiney!” Ha!

This is a wakeup call, that’s for sure. I could thank God for that. That it was discovered earlier, rather than later. I could thank God that both of those bad levels are just over the line into the bad-land….that I’m closer to “within normal “range than I am in the “OH MY GOSH YOU NEED TO LOSE 40 POUNDS RIGHT NOW OR YOU’RE GONNA HAVE A HEART ATTACK TOMORROW” range. I could. I could thank God that I don’t need insulin and that if I would lose even just 10 pounds, my sugar could drop very close back to normal.

But two things are depressing me right now.

The first is that although my doc said, “You’re pre-diabetic,” what I basically heard was, “Medical science has now confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt that, just as you suspected…You ARE a big fat cow!”   No, really. That’s what I heard.

My self-esteem has been suffering for quite some time. When I look in the mirror I never think it’s as bad as when I see a photo of what I actually look like. I think God has had grace on my mirror because He knows that if I knew what the extra fifty-five pounds really looked like on my 5’2” frame…I’d probably never leave the house!

And my cute little size 2 friend loves to remind me that I’m “created in God’s image,” and that “God looks on the inward appearance,” and I am “the apple of God’s eye,” and all of that other precious stuff that people say, who have never gotten the air sucked out of them when they bend over to tie their shoes, because their fat roll got pushed up under their lungs! Yeah. Seriously. It’s that bad.

So needless to say, although I was trying to be in denial, and no amount of clothing size increase was enough to motivate me to change, I knew. And now it’s staring me in the face, in black and white and blood sugar.

Depressing reason #2, to be continued……