People often say they're sorry when told that Olivia has type 1 diabetes. They get that look - you know the one: the eyes squint a little, they cock their heads to one side and their mouths make that little moue of sorrow. "Oh, I'm so sorry, that must be so hard. The poor girl."

Spare me. Please. I don't need your pity, Olivia doesn't need your pity. She had diabetes and while it is tough some days and requires constant vigilance, it's not something that needs your pity. Her life is not over because of her diabetes. She can do anything any other kid her age can do, including eating cupcakes, drinking Kool-Aid, listening to Hannah freakin' Montana until I think my ears are going to bleed *ahem* and running around like a lunatic. It just requires her to stop now and then to check her sugar. She's not going to keel over, she's not going to have a seizure (knock wood), she's just going to be a typical 13-year-old kid. Annoying, funny, friendly, happy, shy, whatever mood strikes her.

What she isn't going to feel is sorry for herself. So please, don't you do it. She doesn't think her diabetes is a death sentence. She doesn't like it all that much, but she lives with it, I live with it, we just deal. Yes, it's unfortunate and of course I wish she was never diagnosed, but this is our life. It's not a life to be pitied. Pity me because I don't look like Claudia Schiffer. Pity Olivia because I make her * gasp * do chores. But don't pity her for something that is part and parcel of who she is.