My Very First Diabetic Christmas

I had a great Christmas. I had great food. I had great company whom I made the great food for.

Alas, I was not a great diabetic.

I had intended to be, but as the song says, 'The road to hell is paved with good intentions.' I am so frustrated with Diabetes! I want to eat what ever the hell I want to eat! I want to bake all of the things you are supposed to bake at Christmas and more importantly, I want to eat them! I want stuffing! I want egg nog! I want the sweets! I am starting to HATE the South Beach daily emails I receive in my Inbox. The ones with titles like 'Beach Friendly Holidays' and 'Guilt-free South Beach Christmas'. DELETE. DELETE.

Confessions of a daredevil diabetic:

1. I made egg nog with vanilla icecream, Jack Daniels, and sweetened condensed milk and I DRANK IT!
2. I made homemade stuffing with WHITE bread and I ATE IT!
3. I made a batch of heavenly lemon bars with sugar and butter and I ATE THEM TOO!

Oh, I feel sooooo naughty! BUT I AM NOT SORRY!!

No, I am not.
Did I feel sick at all? Yes, a little.
Would I do it again? Most likely.

Strangly, Diabetes has created in me an intense desire to forge a healthy relationship with my body. To understand it better. To work with it. To fine tune it. To make it strong. So why do I punish it with sugar and starch? Good question. Scary answer. RAW LUST. Lust for food. I simply LOVE creating things in the kitchen. Here is a change: I can make smart food choices from the menus at restaurants, a picture perfect diabetic, but left alone in my kitchen, I am trouble brewing. Cooking fascinates me. The fact that I can open a cabinet and take out a bunch of unrelated ingredients and within an hour or so have homemade baguettes with fresh pasta and homemade pesto is AMAZING to me. I love doing it! CREATING. Cooking is my art. It is something at which I excel. It has become my passion.

So really, here is the deal. My analysis. My 'two cents'.

My head is around this whole diabetes thing, but my heart is slow to follow.

In my head, I understand the enormity of the condition. I understand the importance of having harmony and peace within my body. I understand I have to take responsibility and make smart choices.

In my heart, however, I find a certain freedom that blossoms when I am cooking. I feel alive. I feel sharp. I feel satisfied. I feel challenged. And I feel sad when I don't have total freedom in food. The very thing that once had unbridled potential, now suddenly has limits. I am heart sick you could say.

And I suppose it just takes time. Time to embrace a new lifestyle. Time to learn new methods. Time to discover wonderful things with all of the right food combinations. And I know that there are all sorts of SCRUMPTOUS diabetic meals just waiting to be created by me. But the heart is slow to follow. It tends to dwell on the days of old. It tends to linger, just a little, behind my head.

Does that make sense? It does to me. And reading what my head seems to know sure seems to make my heart feel better.