Love. Me. Sugar.

Unbeknownst to me, I am quite connected to sugar. I mean, connected at the hip..... And thighs, booty and lower back...lovingly referred to as the top of the muffin. Muffin Top.

I have received some news recently about my solitary kidney...the Mighty Righty... and well, it seems that childbirth was its least favorite activity, because 30% of it went ka-poot on me.

Three years ago, I found out that I had a blood clotting disorder. It was more than likely most of the reason I had three miscarriages.

Looking into my family history, if you go back a few generations (from what I know), all of my deceased family members died of some form of cancer. One didn't...and sadly, he was killed.

The odds are not in my favor.

And now, I find out that I have the one kidney thing going for me. And 30% of it said peace out homies.

You know the saying, "You can't put lipstick on a pig?"

My outer body. The lipstick. My inner body. The pig.

I kind of feel like an internal mess. I mean, the outside...well, we all know I would have won had I entered the Winnebago county fair.. With my long legs, ability to do my hair and make-up with finesse and of course, a tiny nose....oh, and sparkling personality. But, the inside? The only contest it would win would be the "Who doesn't want me?" contest featuring my innards and snoop dogg's lungs.

Anyways, I have been thinking very seriously about the fact that there is a lot that I cannot control. And there is a lot that these stupid body issues have already taken from me. Children..The future ability to have lots more children...Running...Family members...

But, I am not going to let the negative side to this junk take over my thoughts and throw me into a hissy fit (no, I will have those privately while staring pathetically at myself in the mirror...I am not that emotionally healthy yet, people)

I cannot control my genetics. I cannot control what I was born with(out). I cannot control what runs in my family and hopefully skips the rest of all of us.

But, I can control how I take care of my body.

And it's about time I stop eating the same french fries that don't change shape or texture when hiding under a car seat for 5 years. Seriously, McDonalds. 5 years. Hi, I would like a cheeseburger with a small "preservatives only".

It's time to pay attention to what I eat. To make wise choices about what I inhale. And to stop feeding the monkey some sugar everytime it dances. (Am I the only one who rewards myself with JUNK food the SECOND I lose ONE pound?)

Scott and I are on a voyage to cut out processed food. So far so good.

Except I am realizing that sugar... Wow... When you aren't eating it? And you are used to...

Well...  It really likes to let you know.

Sleepy. Headache. It's like little angry sugar demons are on the attack. Covering my brain with tiny warm blankets of sleepiness. And taking itty bitty hammers to my forehead.

It sounds surprisingly cute. But nay.

It so isn't.

But, it's ok. It is high time that I take control over one of the few things I can take control of.

So, along with working on actually putting the laundry away after I wash and fold, I will also do my best at taking care of the inside of me. Namely, my gizzards.

(I would like to think the term gizzard refers to the overall inside arena of my organs)