I'd rather you call me fat

I fully expected to be called fat at the doctor's appointment that reviewed my Glucose Tolerance Test. As I mentioned in my previous post, that test was horrible, yet I still believed the results would be normal. That was not the case.
I was informed that I had a condition known as Reactive Hypoglycemia. The doctor then left the room to grab some literature and I broke down. Had I been prepared for the diagnosis I would have had a notebook full of questions, but I wasn't. That deer-in-the-headlight reaction was made worse with the literature. All but one of the 4 pamphlets was labeled as diabetic this or diabetic that.
Diabetes isn't a new thing to me. My mother died from Type 1 Diabetes when I was very young, my father has Type 2, and a cousin of mine also has Type 1.
I understand the rules of Diabetes and in my quickly deteriorating composure I was able to ask if THIS was going to turn into Diabetes. His response was that it could and I felt my heart breaking.
A 1200 calorie diabetic diet was the last thing he gave me instructions on. There were slight modifications for my reactive hypoglycemia including eating every 2-3 hours and "no white at night" but for the most part I was to follow the diet instructions. 
While there were tears in the office, there were sobs in the car. I stayed there for a long time wishing I could rewind and change the diagnosis. I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I had disappointed my parents and my family by allowing this to happen. I mourned the loss of my old life.

I wish he had just called me fat.