16 songs in my iTunes library have the word “sugar” in the title. 57 use “sweet” in the title.
When you’re a diabetic in my place, everything comes back to glucose. You can’t escape it, even from songs.
You can take all the tea in China
Put it in a big brown bag for me
Sail right around the seven oceans
Drop it straight into the deep blue sea
She’s as sweet as tupelo honey
She’s an angel of the first degree
She’s as sweet as tupelo honey
Just like honey from the bee
I’m going to be honest with you, something most health professionals will not do. If you have any intention of trying to stop taking medication, which means losing weight and getting your blood sugar under control, then you’ll have to turn your life upside down and be miserable.
Do these 4 things:
- Live life in a constant state of simmering rage, like you’ll snap at any second. Get angry about diabetes.
- Learn to hate food. You have to hate the smell of food, what it looks like, and what it tastes like. All food. When you smell fresh toast, trick yourself into having the impulse to regurgitate.
- Work yourself into dust. Exercise regardless of injuries. You’ll be in constant pain, hobbling around with sprained ankles and pulled muscles, but it’s the only way. Keep the fuck moving.
- Hate your life. End relationships, hobbies, or anything that gives you joy. There is no joy, you have diabetes. You should be thinking about your weight every waking moment. There is nothing else.
At some point you’ll realize that I wasn’t joking. Right now you think I’m trying to be funny by exaggerating. Then come back and read this again. Truth.
Someone came up to my office with a slice of pizza. I didn’t want to get into a long conversation about diabetes, so I forced myself to eat the pizza.
My favorite is feta, I think. With a simple dressing of oil and apple cider vinegar, the saltiness of feta really pops in a salad.
What good salad cheese am I missing?
I hate to admit it, because this thing looks like a rabbit’s wet dream, but the salad I made this weekend tasted fucking good. A simple homemade dressing on fresh spinach and Swiss chard from the first farm share distribution of the season.
Does that look good to you? Then make the damn thing!
- olive oil
- apple cider vinegar
- spinach, chopped bite size
- Swiss chard, chopped bite size (cut the stems and ribs out — they’re tough)
- chopped up toasted almonds
- feta cheese crumbles, not too much
- a little bit of grilled chicken
You want amounts? Forget about it! Figure it out yourself, I’ve already given you something that tastes good!
What makes this salad are the almonds and feta (the saltiness of the cheese). Don’t screw it up and substitute.
Cynthia, my partner in eating crimes, joined me in eating eating three small pizzas at two of the best places in pizza heaven New Haven, CT. Modern Pizza, then Frank Pepe. Tried to smooth things out with extra doses of Humalog.
Fuck you very much, Stoneyfield.
How much are we supposed to think about ourselves?
I’ve always thought that people who obsess about themselves are conceited, and that it wasn’t a good thing to be conceited.
But having diabetes turns that whole notion on its head.
There’s nothing I do (or don’t do) that doesn’t have implications for my health. I wish I could forget it just a few hours, but I can’t. Even the act of not thinking about living with diabetes for a few hours is thinking about diabetes!
This only matters because I have to change every. single. thing. about how I’ve lived life until now. Everything.
Fuck you, diabetes.
I’d like to consciously uncouple from my diabetes. But I can’t.