Recently, my mom and I were talking about our eating habits. When she was a teacher, she said, there were typically goodies in the teacher's lounge. Every carb-heavy, sugar-filled concoction you could imagine. From donuts to stolens to cookies and cakes. She said if she could just hold out until the kids left for the day, she felt pretty good about making it home without touching anything. If she happened to grab one of those treats first thing in the morning, though, she was extra super diligent for the rest of the day, she said.

"Oh, man! Not me!" I said. The earlier I cheat, the more likely I am to be bad for the rest of the day. She was shocked at my admission.

With that in mind, though, I have been known to talk myself out of treating myself to a fast-food breakfast. Not wanting to have my blood sugar be wrecked for the remainder of the day, I can sometimes convince myself that my normal breakfast of 100% whole wheat English muffin and whipped cream cheese or natural (read: chewy, if you don't stir it right) peanut butter with a dab of jelly on a piece of whole wheat was really the best option.

At the first sign of defeat, though, it's all out the window. I'm sort of an anal-retentive perfectionst. Others will disagree, but that's how I see myself. So, if I can't be perfect or near-perfect for a whole day, then why bother starting? This is one of the biggest obstacles I've had to overcome since being diagnosed with diabetes. I have such high expectations for myself that when I fail at eating right and controlling my diabetes I say "Just screw the whole thing." I haven't quite mastered the concept of starting over tomorrow.