My endo last week told me that weight gain was just a simple matter of calories in and calories out. I brought in my concern that I'd gained about eight pounds in the last three months without changing diet or exercise excessively. I worked really hard to lose weight last year, I don't want to start seeing the scale creep up and feel out of control.

But apparently, it's just a simple matter of calories in and calories out.

I just don't believe her. I know she has a point. That yes, weight gain often happens when you are consuming more than you are expending. But that isn't the entire picture...especially for insulin dependent diabetics.

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Lowering my A1c is my diabetes priority at the moment. I'm ready to bump down from the 7.3% that I've been stuck at for the last six months. I'm looking to get back under 7% and head towards 6.5% to achieve another "lowest A1c of all time." But today it hit me that lowering my A1c is really taking a toll on me.

Not only is it increasing my diabetes stress to do everything right (or at least the majority), but it's also creating a domino effect with quite a few other aspects of my life. Things that are "tolerable" but when combined make me wonder if it's worth it. I feel like I'm always in a state of "weighing the consequences:" do I try harder to lower my A1c or do I tolerate the 7.3% and avoid the ill effects?

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[auro] on Flickr

The last few weeks have been a major struggle with my weight. The week before finals (first week of December), I noticed that my weight was slowly climbing. Not much, but enough to make me worry. Two weeks later (bringing us to this weekend), I've gained two pounds.

I know two pounds isn't that much, but this time I feel like it's twenty pounds. I'm noticing it in my face, in my legs, in my hands. No one else seems to notice, so I'm sure this is just my self-image taking a nasty turn. But no matter what, I'm still bothered by it.

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I’m sorry.

I know the first “no no” in blogging is to not post about why you have not posted in a while but still this must be addressed.

Life has been a major downer for me lately. My blood sugars have been through the roof, I have put on almost all the weight I lost while on Weight Watchers, and I moved.

First I will tell you that we had to move, we did not choose to. We were owners and are now renting a home. I am sure you can read between those lines. Being 35 with 2 kids and starting over is not only difficult but extremely depressing. The feeling of being a failure had been engulfing me for months. It has made it hard to write and share that with you all not only because of embarrassment but because I did not want to be a downer. (READ MORE)

For 4 weeks I have avoided the world. I stopped blogging. Stopped logging. Stopped counting points. Just stopped.

What good did it do me? Lots actually when I look back. I realized that support and friends are an important part of my life and my diabetes management. I use the support and advice from my friends almost daily. When I read comments on blog posts I always find support and help from so many. It truly keeps me in line.

The other side of it is that I found that worrying does no good at all. I have spent this last month worrying about money which did absolutely no good. The only good that came about was that realization. Worry is a waste of time.

What is annoying is that I know this. I know that worry is nothing more then a stress creator and with that, a glucose "inflator." I need not add to the stress of my life worrying all the time.

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I know. I know. We've all said/heard/thought that phrase a gozillion times. Heaven knows I've said it more than my fair share lately. But today something prompted me to think it and mean it; something more than my pants feeling too tight.

I went to see Harry this afternoon because my ear and my throat hurt--particularly when I chew and swallow. This is not a good combination. I was "worked in" late afternoon and didn't spend that much time in the waiting room. As the nurse was leading me back to an exam room, she stopped and said, "Oh, wait." and took me to the scale. It was not nice to me. In fact, I was closer to my diagnosis weight than I'd like to be. Closer than I thought I was. Too close.

I cringed with embarassment. (READ MORE)