91.

There was a time in my life in high school when I thought I weighed too much. That's so silly, really - I weighed less than than I do now. But summer of my Junior year of high school, I decided enough was enough. I became obsessed with the thought of losing weight: getting back to my gymnastics weight, fitting in all my old size 00's. I think a lot of ex-gymnasts struggle with this - one day, you wake up and realize you aren't all muscle anymore, and on top of that, you don't burn food like you used to. It started off harmlessly enough: living at my friend's house that spring. I started shrinking my food portions. I'd go biking every morning and follow it with a swim. Go for a walk in the afternoon. Physically, I was healthy enough. Mentally, maybe not so much - I wrote in my journal every day. Sad, angry entries, expressing frustration over my life. Angst over a boy. Hurt over family and divorce, my belongings in a storage unit with my mom's. Some was teenage angsty stuff, normal enough - but a lot of it expressed a heap of sorrow and hurt that I didn't realize had such a great impact on me. I lost some weight.  5 pounds. I felt like people didnt take me seriously when I told them that - just a high schooler on a fad. I'd show them. I moved into my mom and I's new home. It was quiet there; a little secluded from a lot of my friends. I lived my life in that little room in that house. And I decided I still weighed too much, even though my size 2's and a lot of my size 0's finally fit comfortably. I, depressed ex-gymnast living in near isolation, was a prime candidate for an eating disorder.

My diet shrank, still harmlessly enough, perhaps. 1500 calories. I found a track behind the local middle school I could walk or bike to. I began to visit it 5 days a week. I'd run 10 laps, setting up an interval schedule. I was still self conscious about my body. I'd wear one piece swimsuits. I reduced my diet even more - 1200 calories. There was no one around to tell me otherwise, so I kept on. My mom was out of the house working majority of the time, and I couldn't drive. Isolation was easy... and key to eating healthy and running regularly. When I ate out, I chose salads. Snacks were fresh fruit. I felt guilty if I ate pizza or ice cream. I bought two bikinis. "You'll look great in them, with a body like that," the sales rep told me. I didn't believe her, but I smiled politely.

It wasn't enough. Eventually, my diet shrank to 600-800 calories a day. It was easy to do that, being homeschooled with a two day a week college schedule. Oatmeal in the morning. A 40 calorie ice cream bar in between breakfast and lunch. A sandwich and apple for lunch. Chicken and some green vegetables for dinner. If I wanted something sweet, I'd have another ice cream bar... or a single M&M. I didn't recognize that I had a problem, not really. People commented on my weight loss. Some told me.not to lose any more weight. I'd covet those statements. I didn't want to go out and hang with my friends because then I'd mess up my diet because they'd want to go out to eat. I didn't want to do that. It morphed into the need for control of my life - control I felt I didn't have elsewhere. It morphed into a way to take my frustration and depression out on me in what I could skew as a "healthy" outlet, even though I knew deep down it was hurting me. And me, being depressed, kind of liked that it hurt me. Even though I still told myself it was "healthy". "Lacy will never be fat," one of my friends told me one day. I smiled with inner satisfaction. My size 0's were getting loose. I lost 10 pounds during summer camp; hiking 10 miles in the woods, swimming all day, cutting down on carbs in the meantime; I relished it simply for the weight loss aspect.

By the end of the summer, I'd lost 25 pounds. At 16, I fit the same clothes I had worn at 12. People couldn't believe I'd had 25 pounds to lose in the first place. My size 0's were big on me. I wore a belt and put them in the dryer after washing them so that they'd fit on me. Finally, I was stick thin. 100 pounds. Finally, I was happy. School started, and my diet remained the same. I'd still run. Fall came around. One month, I didn't have my period. Couldn't that happen if you lost too much weight? I checked the scale at Publix. 91 pounds. I got a little scared. I guess I can't really lose any more weight. I thought. I never let myself lose any more weight than that. But the impact of that summer has followed me. A love-hate relationship with food; being picky about eating out. Not choosing the unhealthy options. I've calorie counted every day since I was 15, just like I carb count now. I pick at food, just move it around, subtly throw it away if I think it's too unhealthy.

Eating disorders come in all different shapes and sizes. For post-athletes, they can hit hard; it's hard to have once had a great body, and been able to eat anything you wanted, and then gradually realize that you can't eat whatever you want anymore when you aren't working out 4 hours a day 6 days a week. It can cause you to feel like you've lost part of your identity. It can lead you to desperation to maintain who you once were. That's certainly a component of this story.

Why else am I telling this story? I guess because diabetes has been an interesting experience for me because of my past history with food. I grew used to denying myself the food I wanted. Skipping the dessert, hard as it was. Eating low carb on my self-inflicted Atkin's diet that I'd basically began 2 years before I was ever even diagnosed with Diabetes. Watching my food like a hawk. Unfortunately - once you get used to doing those things - old habits die hard. I'm still dealing with a lot of residual issues when it comes to food and weight. Yes, being diagnosed with Diabetes was hard. It's hard to follow a diet by choice, but then have to follow a diet not by choice - the loss is still real, and I was bitter towards my disease because of that for a long time. I'd never had to physically count carbs before, just kind of "guesstimate". With Diabetes, if you're on a food to insulin ratio like me, it affords you a lot more freedom that giving insulin for a specific amount of carbs and specifically planning your meals to have that amount of carbs at specific times of the day doesn't, as you can imagine. I basically eat what I want - within reason, because it's easier to manage diabetes on a low carb diet and uses less insulin - and then I give insulin in a ratio that is 1 unit of insulin per every 5 grams of carbs. As you can imagine, this makes being precise very important. So, I've had to learn that. In hindsight, I wish I'd treasured my freedom more leading up to my illness. Wish I'd treasured food more than hating it. The reason I didn't notice I'd shrunk from 110 to 89 at the same of my.diagnosis was because I was on another dirt - granted, a more controlled one- and I assumed the diet was working. Not that I was losing weight from illness.

But frankly... some days, I'm thankful for diabetes, and that's old high school me coming out. Because sometimes I like an excuse to have to eat healthy. To not feel like I have to justify myself for getting the diet soda or the salad, like I had to do in high school. There are plenty of more reasons to hate diabetes - insulin makes you gain weight, and losing weight can be hard and more complicated with insulin and diabetes. Needles suck. On top of that, as a diabetic privy to the world of social media, I've spent a lot of time researching a condition called Diabulimia - a condition where people will purposefully not take insulin in order to run their blood sugar high to lose weight. Because, you see, Diabetes untreated, in addition to wrecking your organs, ruining your eyesight and sensation, destroying your kidneys and other unpleasant side effects, essentially starves your body of nutrition until it wastes away. Cue photo of me in high school just prior to my diagnosis. I thought I looked nice - but I was also 89 pounds and didn't know it, because I'd stopped weighing myself on a scale long ago because of my unhealthy predisposition to obsess over those numbers.

It's been a hard road, learning to enjoy food again and still manage my Diabetes, and then learn to change my diet around Diabetes again and again, trying to fine tune it. I need some carbs - otherwise my insulin will make my blood sugars too low. I can't eat to many - my blood sugar will get too high. It's been hard to learn how to be healthy and not hate food at the same time. It's been hard to not let myself learn to re-hate food because of how diabetes impacts my diet. I have dreams about my used to being able to eat and not give insulin. And frankly, those dreams make me sad. It's even been hard to occasionally ignore the temptation to not give myself insulin - almost like letting a meal not count.

But I've made a lot of progress, leading up to my wedding this past May and onwards. Working out using Insanity with my then-fiance now husband. Biking instead of driving to the grocery store and restaurants, or even just for an evening outing. Choosing healthy options to eat, but still treating myself out. Exercising portion control. I've dropped a few pant sizes - but I also know I'm never going to be that 89 pound girl again right there, and I'm not going to fit into my 00's anymore. I finally bagged those up and got rid of them this year. Because, eating 600 calories a day while working out isn't healthy, and neither is having your blood sugars run so high that your body starves itself. I'm also not going to be a level 9 competitive gymnast working out 24+ hours per week ever again. These days, I work out - I hydrate - and I'm a healthy, comfortable size 2. High school me would have scoffed at that and considered size 2 next to fat - but high school me was also extremely unhealthy, and I have to remember that. Whether it's biking, hiking, insanity, or simply walking to play Pokemon Go - and eating well without starving myself. I'm good at choosing healthy food options and eating well (I've had years of practice, I've just had to learn to incorporate it into my life in a healthy and balanced way). My blood sugars aren't always perfect, but they are well controlled. Learning to be healthy, mentally and physically, has been an ongoing road since ending my time as a competitive gymnast - and a reinvented one since being diagnosed with Diabetes. Taking care of yourself is work, and it always will be - it's all about making your health a lifestyle. Looking at where high school me was, I'm a lot healthier, mentally and physically, than I once was - and grateful.