<p>You wake up on a Sunday morning after a day of complete and utter couch potato-ness and you say to yourself, "It's been a month since I picked up the weights, if I don't start today it could be another month before you feel like trying again." So you get up, put on your yoga pants and your favorite pink under armour shirt and your matching pink asics. As you walk by the candy bowl that you were so found of yesterday, you proudly walk by and say, "Nuh uh, you're not sucking me in today." So you put on your favorite pandora station and start grooving. It's a little tough after a month but you don't care cause you're determined. You get nine minutes in and you start to feel the shakes but you try to push through. You start to feel light headed but nope you keep trying to push cause you're halfway through. And then it comes, the feeling you hate the most because you know you have to reach for that candy bar now not because you want to but because it's the only thing that'll keep you from running to the porcelain express with a ghost white face that makes Mischa Barton in the Sixth sense look like a teddy bear. The sad thing is it's the one time a fat kid can't even force a candy bar down because your blood sugars telling your stomach it wants out not in. Now you're lying on the cold bathroom floor praying it either stops or just comes already. You're lying in a pool of sweat but you can't tell if it's from your body freaking out because of your blood sugar or if it's from your workout. Eventually you get youself to sit up and try to dry heave a few times and then finally your body realizes that you just put chocolate in you and then all is well because your sugar is back up. You stand up, walk back to your workout area & you keep pushing but your body isn't ready. You try to lift the weights but your body hasn't regained it's full strength yet but you try to keep going. The weights are shaking so much you can barely hold onto them but you finish your set. Then the feeling comes back and you collapse on the floor right then and there because after all that you refuse to put another candy bar in your mouth. Then you start to think, "Well, the disease got to me yesterday because of the cravings and making me run down. Today the disease got me down because I tried to workout without knowing my blood sugar was low. I can't win." And that's when the self pity creeps in because on a daily basis you feel so helpless. Between the food, looks, weight, forced exhaustion and cravings, you can't win! And then you have to ask yourself, when are doctors going to care? When are they going to wake up and realize that it's painful, causes obesity and cancer and that it's overall detrimental to a lot of womens health in general. And then you remember that they don't care and neither to the insurance companies because to them, it's just cosmetic, to them it doesn't affect 1 in 10 women, it isn't directly related to heart disease, or ovarian cancer or breast cancer. Miraculously to them, they could give two shits that it's going untreated and probably killing a lot of women.
