"Cold turkey"

I overdid the insulin again last night, and woke up at 3 needing a glucose tablet. I sat in the bathroom so as not to wake John, waiting for it to take effect, and was hit by a powerful wave of hunger first (unusual for me in the middle of the night) and then a bucket-of-cold-water awareness that I can no longer tell myself, as I've done so many times in the past, that when the ideal weight is reached the foods I love so much will still be there waiting for me, even if only eaten occasionally.

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These are beef dishes such as steak, schnitzel, Latin-American pasties... the specialities of Argentina, where I was born and grew up. I gather that if the band is working properly, beef and pastry can be eaten only in minute quantities, if at all, ever again. Things always seem blackest in the night, I find, and it struck me that this would, for me, be the higest price to pay. Not the smaller portions, the general avoidance of high fat foods such as chips and chocolate, the much loved British jam doughnut (with apologies to any possible US readers - sorry, there's no contest!) - or even the impossibility of eating and drinking at the same time. These I am willing to learn living without.

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The steaks, schnitzels and pasties are favourite foods which spell childhood, security, flavours that take me back to a more innocent time - and it felt as though I was turning my back on (some of the happier aspects of) my past, and for a while I felt inconsolable.

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In the morning it didn't seem so dramatic, and as with most coming-to-terms situations, it'll probably be OK in the end if I just take it a day at a time.

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That was my first 'cold turkey' - I'm sure there will be many more on the way. So this had better be worth it.

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I'm off to give myself a little less insulin. Goodnight.

-oOo-