I’d like to consciously uncouple from my diabetes. But I can’t.
No, getting a gold star for being a good diabetic isn’t like being a gold star lesbian. I’m giving myself a gold star because I traversed some hairy areas without falling into old behaviors that would have led me to over eat. Or eat crappy food. 24 hours and counting!
Seems kind of lame to be celebrating something that I should have been doing all along, but the glucose meter read 151 this morning, which is as low as its been in weeks. Sad, I know.
I deserve a treat!
This time I’ll treat myself to NOT treating myself.
Glucose, how low can you go, you tricky bastard!
If we don’t legalize drones, how am I going to see underneath my gut?
How about you?
You need to lose weight.
No shit. Don’t tell me what I need to do, tell me how to do it.
Your A1C is 8.1. We need to get that down.
You’ve got a fatty liver.
We needed an ultrasound for you to figure that out?
Been thinking about only going to the doctor once a year with quarterly blood test results mailed to me. I know what needs to be done. I have to do it (or not). Why waste time and money if I don’t do the work that needs doing?
That gut belongs to Randy, who keeps it fed with cheeseburgers. He’s one of the Trailer Park Boys.
I totally would. Wrestling around in all those squeaky cheese curds and gravy? Awesome!
Don’t know what poutine is? From Wikipedia:
a common Canadian dish, originally from Quebec, made with french fries, topped with a light brown gravy-like sauce and cheese curds.
That sounds sexy, doesn’t it?
I was a total asshole to myself this morning. After getting my A1C, cholesterol, and full blood work, I went out and ate 2 bagels with cream cheese. Two!! Bill is an asshole!