Diabetes and my "Fairytale" Romance: Where's my Storybook Ending?
Once upon a time, in a scorching hot land near to some and so very far from others lived a girl older than others and younger than some. Now, she didn’t believe in fairytales like some silly girls who raced to balls in search of Prince Charming. Yet she did secretly hope that one day, after school and establishing herself professionally, she would meet a young man with whom she would join in a mutually satisfying relationship based on love, friendship and respect. Ideally, this young swain would woo her (but not in a scary stalker kind of way) and married or not (she was very modern), would love her no matter what and hold her tight and keep their castle warm and dry. Visions of travels together to foreign lands and cozy cuddle-filled nights sipping cocoa filled her head.
Meanwhile, a young man came to that so very hot land from his home far to the north. Like most young men, he was focused on his tasks at hand but he thought it would be nice to meet a young girl – you know, to drink beers with and someone he could quote The Simpsons to. He hoped she would be pretty and smart , wouldn’t mind him hanging out with his minstrel band and more than anything, would laugh at his jokes. It would also be grand if she was successful, could cook and took care of the house he would build for her.
One day, they met. They fell instantly in like. She thought he was funny and laughed at all his jokes. Plus, she thought he was VERY handsome and that doesn’t hurt. Hubba. I would daresay that she swooned. He liked that she said what she meant and was so pretty. She was no athlete like he, nor did she enjoy such things, but he loved her delicate bone structure and made her promise that her ankles would always be small enough to wrap his fingers around. Plus, she let him slay as many dragons as he wanted.
With youth on their side and what seemed like an endless supply of days, the years went by. After 15 years, her ambitious dreams had only led her to a career change at 30 and then middle-management of the court system with barely any notice from the royals and for him, well, let’s face it, the minstrel band was not going to make it. By then, lust had turned into I-tolerate-your-stupid-jokes companionship and barely-concealed-snark-filled asides. All of the lust left in her had turned to wanderlust and she wondered when and to where she could escape.
She complained that there was no wooing. He complained that the many, many nights of cocoa and the accompanying sweet treats had left the once young girl a little, no, a lot, heavy in her dainty slippers.
She, by then, had noticed and had doctor-diagnosed the obvious dragon to diabetes metaphor and our beloved damsel was indeed distressed and then depressed.
All other issues aside, she needed to lose weight not only for her but for him. Forget genetic predisposition, he said. If only she was more athletic, he said. If only she had more self-control, he said. She needed to get healthy – now, damn it! - he said. He was tired of her laziness, he said. He was tired of slaying dragons, he was tired of her, and this was one dragon she was going to have to slay on her own.
And there they were, our young girl and our young man, at an impasse.