The Beginning

I am writing my very own self-help book as a blog; a work in progress, just like me.  Yes, its title is a shameless imitation of Elizabeth Gilbert's book, Eat Pray Love.  I loved the book.  I have heard Elizabeth Gilbert lecture twice.  She is charming and funny and unsurprisingly, well --- literate.  Unlike those Elizabeth Gilbert wannabees, you will not find me in India learning to pray or in Bali trying to find my own equivalent of Javier Bardem.  But Italy???  Eating????
You see, I am not thirty-something, but fifty-something.  As the product of 12 years of Catholic education taught by five different communities of Roman Catholic nuns, I had expert teachers in the prayer department.  And, I have my own Javier Bardem at home.  Well, not exactly, but he's mine. 
In the context of this blog title, Eat does not mean pleasurable pursuits involving pasta, gelato and finding the most perfect pizza in the world.  I already did that -- for years, actually. 
This blog is about discovering how, as a newly diagnosed diabetic, to live with it -- to manage it.  Apparently those years in carb wonderland took a toll.  My family history is not helpful.  My mother and two aunts (all deceased)  and an uncle (who at nearly 92 is my real-life hero about how to age well) share this diagnosis.  And it goes back even further.  One of my childhood memories is of my mom's Uncle Joe coming from Chicago to visit.  I recall that it was my birthday and he bought me a lovely red sweater (probably purchased by my Aunt Mary, who at nearly 96 now, remains a champion shopper).  The other memory is that they cooked turnips for him.  I did not know what they were, but my mom explained that he "had sugar."  This mystery food was absolutely foreign to me, having been raised on pasta, meatballs on Sunday and the two loaves of bread that my dad brought  home every day from Minerva bakery in McKeesport. 
I need to lose 35 pounds.  I need to do better than my mother.  She never admitted to or spoke of her diagnosis.  To the best of my knowledge, she changed nothing about her lifestyle, and was indifferent about taking her prescribed medications.   She ultimately developed dementia as did my two diabetic aunts.  The last years of her life were spent in institutions, ultimately in a nursing home, unable to speak or move. 
This blog is my way of documenting a journey to reposition my health status, by the numbers.   I actually started it while in London, on a two-week vacation that became a three-week vacation, thanks to Heathrow's inability to manage a few inches of snow.  The photo was taken from my room at the Marriott Heathrow, where for the extra five days I could watch planes take off that were not mine.  It gave me time to think, to write and to make a plan.