I grew up with "Natalie, don't eat that -- you'll get diabetes!" because my grandmother had diabetes and the family was terrified of it. This does NOT leave a sweet taste in the mouth of a child, and as soon as I could, I rebelled and gave myself permission to eat all the carbs and sweets I wanted. And, as the years passed, I DID gain weight, although I never hit the obese point. And as my mother got older and older, and got round (but also, never obese), and never got diabetes, nor any sign of any metabolic or autoimmune disorder in her 70's (she died at age 80, of COPD), I thought I was home safe.
So when I started showing the signs of oncoming diabetes, and was told I was hyperglycemic (old standards -- would have been diagnosable these days), all I could do was bawl, and listen to all the voices in my head saying "I told you so, I told you so!" BAAAAD VIBES!
So at this point, NO ONE tells me I can't eat something. I'M the only one who can do that. I'm lucky in that my friends respect my choices, and I readily admit that I don't always follow my own ideals for what I SHOULD be eating. But at least it's a conscious choice, and the only proviso is the deal that I made with myself which is that I MUST take ENOUGH insulin to cover what I eat, and if it means staying up all night correcting (like I did on Tuesday), then so be it.
I know that my family treated me like that because they cared about me and my health, but what a burden to put on a child!