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OK, so if you know the link between title and picture then my friend, you can officially class yourself as ‘awesome’ and savor the fact that you have an excellent taste in music.

If you are of that era of above said band, then I have some bad news. You have an over 40% chance of currently being either pre-diabetic or even a fully-certified type-II diabetic and you won’t know about it. If that goes unchecked and you progress further then you will, most likely die earlier than would normally be expected and you will have a very high chance of developing several nasty chronic diseases that will most certainly add to your demise.

As a diversion from the main topic of this blog post I want to scare you, and hopefully scare you into making some changes like I have done. Just some facts from a large group of US studies on the potential health outcomes from untreated type-II diabetes:-

Heart and Blood Vessel Disease – heart disease, stroke, high blood pressure

Nerve Damage – tingling in the fingers that moves up the arm (I had this), digestion problems causing a lot of nausea (I had this, but always thought it was IBS), erectile dysfunction (not making a comment on this one)

Kidney damage, eye damage, slow healing, increased susceptibility to bacterial and fungal diseases.

Sleep apnea and snoring – I have been a bad snorer for years. My snoring has significantly reduced and my sleep quality has improved dramatically since May 7th

Alzheimer’s disease. I really don’t want to end up down this pathway. After watching my father degenerate over 7 years with Alzheimer’s this is one thing I want to avoid.

In 2007 the cost of treating diabetes (type-I and type-II) in the United States was €174 BILLION, in 2012 it was $245 Billion and it is estimated that cost will be nearer to $500 billion in 2035. The majority of spending has now been skewed to treatment of chronic diseases associated with Type II diabetes. Before 2050 this is likely to hit very close to €1 TRILLION dollars. On top of that there is an estimated cost burden of over $30 billion to treat ‘undiagnosed diabetics’. This is completely and totally unsustainable. It is also totally preventable and easily treatable. However, the journey to that treatment is not easy, it will require work, it will require sacrifices and it forces you to face temptation, serious serious temptation.


Late at night, the kids want supper and they want toast. The smell of the toast wafts across the kitchen tempting my nostrils and making my belly crave carbs. I need to hold the hot buttered toast in my hand, stuff it into my mouth and savor the flow of processed fat and sugar into my throat. But I won’t let it happen.

There is a noise coming from the kitchen cupboard, can’t quite make it out. I open the door and the noise gets louder, it’s three packets of biscuits, screaming at me to eat them. Ginger nuts, Oaties and Chocolate Digestives are all ganging up on me and want me to tear into them and devour them. I would normally give into this pleading and not stop until all that is left is crumbs and an empty packet, but not tonight.

Cheese sandwiches, the staple of my late night snacking. I can taste the processed cheese slices, mixed with the creamy Flora on some doughy white bread. I can feel my teeth sinking into the bread, biting a big chunk, the taste, the bland bland cheesy taste, I want it, I need it. But I need to live.

What’s in the box. I have the curiosity of a puppy, need to know, smells good, come to me, come to me my precious. Can it be, yes, yes it is, its a pizza. Oh Lord, it’s a pizza, a big 18 inch pizza, cheese, tomato, ham, pepperoni, spicy beef and there are dips, sweet sweet garlic dip. I want it, I want it all, no one is having any of it, I have to stuff it all in my mouth, make myself feel sick, I need the hit, I have to get this thing inside me. Get away, what are you doing, it’s my pizza, you get your own, I will fight you for it, PUT THAT SLICE DOWN. But I don’t eat it, I walk away

You’re having a take-away tonight, excellent. Beef, black bean sauce and noodles will go down a treat. The portion will be huge, probably enough to feed 4, but I am going to eat it, but I don’t want to be greedy, I won’t eat it all tonight – I will save some. Putting fork down on an empty plate, mmmm that was nice, so nice in fact that I am going to go back and finish the rest now, I just want that nice food-induced, MSG laden hit to send my brain into the clouds. I don’t care if tomorrow my IBS is going to go into overdrive, my gut will spasm so hard that I will have to crawl on my knees to the bathroom because the pain is so bad, i want it all NOW. But I don’t.

Don’t tell my wife, but I am in love with another woman, her name is Krystal. I met Krystal about a year ago, and I see her most days, but my wife doesn’t even suspect. I have never been closer than about 10 feet to Krystal, and it is usually across a counter top with a glass barrier. Krystal makes my lunchtime wrap, always the same thing, made exactly the same way. Krystal deviates from the menu, she doesn’t put on 4 slices of bacon, she has been known to put on 20, along with a handful or two of cheese, jalapenos, olives, onions, lots of thick BBQ sauce. She then toasts it and hands it to me. Our fingers have never accidentally touched as she hands me the sandwich, but the electric feeling as I receive the hot package wrapped in the grease-proof paper makes my heart skip a beat. The over 800 calories will be gone in 2 minutes, but the tin of Pringles I bought at the same time will continue the hit. Krsytal can’t remember my name, to her I am just that slightly quirky guy from that office next door that likes BBQ melt with a shit load of bacon. She doesn’t realise it, she is my enabler. But I don’t see Krystal anymore, the streak has been broken.

Pringles, why the hell did I have to mention Pringles. I can buy a long tube of Pringles at the nearby motorway service station, this is just 12km away from my house and is one junction on the motorway. I will have those Pringles finished before I have even hit the 300m to exit sign on the motorway. If there was a World Championships for eating Pringles, I would rule the world. I am the master at consuming 1000 calories in under 8 minutes. In that same 8 minutes, my body probably exerted 40 or 50 calories in changing gear, and will probably exert about the same when I drag my sorry ass from the car to the sofa. That is 1000 calories that my body doesn’t need, I am not planning on running a marathon later, might see if there is one on TV if I can be bothered to find the TV remote control, but I am not ‘fueling’ for something highly energetic. But now I don’t pop, and now I have stopped.

It isn’t my body that needs the food, it is my brain, and to be honest the brain doesn’t care if I get that hit from 1000 calories of crispy sour cream goodness or a line of cocaine, it wants the chemical hit, that is all it knows, it’s what it needs.

Hello, my name is Iain Shaw, and I am an addict.

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