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In case you didn't know that acronym stands for, "There's No Such Thing As A Free Lunch." I remember those words on the chalk board during my Economics class in high school. Yesterday this saying came to mind again.
During the day I get a phone call from one of our salespeople at work letting me know that he wants to treat the office employees to lunch as an early Valentine's gift. All the gals in the office were excited to get a free lunch but see it as a test of my will power.
Having to count points and
carbs means I plan for most meals. I have spent the first weeks of the New Year luke-warm about my weight loss and I just recently got the fire burning again. Free lunches come with a price that I am not ready to pay.
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Happy Halloween! I suspect it is only in the USA that Halloween has taken on such huge proportions. It's the number two holiday for decoration sales. There are probably a lot of interesting psychological reasons why Americans are drawn to a holiday all about appearing to be someone else; but that's a post for a different forum.
As a person with type 2 diabetes, I really dislike the candy aspect of the celebration. In all honesty, I really
LIKE the candy aspect, but dislike having to try and restrain myself. It didn't used to be ALL candy. Remember apples? But then the
urban myth of the razor blade in the apple started and that was the end of apples for trick or treat.
Remember "Trick or Treat for UNICEF"? I haven't see that for several years.
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Well here's something I didn't see coming: Sugar-Free Chocolate Chip Girl Scout cookies. I walked into the lunch room at work and there, on the stainless steel countertop, rested this never-before-seen box of cookies.
"Where did these come from?" I asked my co-worker.
"No idea," they said, through a mouthful of crumbs. "But they're pretty tasty."
(I love when people without diabetes can't tell that they're eating something less crammed with sugar than what they're used to.)
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I Test. Ring in at a respectable 106 mg/dl. I stand up from the table adorned with "Happy Birthday" balloons. Head to the buffet.
I stare at the spread of food before me. There is a vat of baked macaroni & cheese. There are containers of fatty meats (ham, beef, turkey with the skin still on). There are potatoes, stuffing, and other starchy veggies. And there are desserts. Lots of those. Cheesecake and ice cream cake and white cake, cookies and pastries, pie. I am a little overwhelmed at the size of the spread. Flowing out over three long tables.
My internal mouth is saying, "Fiesta!"
But my mind is saying, loudly, "Jailbait."
Mouth: "Oh, come on, look at it. You've got to take advantage. Have some salad. That'll keep it healthy."
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When I was first diagnosed with diabetes, I read everything I could get my hands on about it. The fear of complications kept me in line. In fact, when faced with the temptation of cookies and cake, the phrase "blindness, dialysis and amputation" helped me walk away with not so much as a taste.
I guess that's why I took it so hard when my vision started blurring recently. At my post-pregnancy opthalmalogist visit, my eyeglass prescription had changed so much in the last six months, the doctor suggested checking again in a few months instead of getting a new prescription now. He explained my recent high blood sugars (thanks to that third attempt at diet and exercise "control") had temporarily distorted my vision. There are no signs of perminent damage, yet. Get my sugars under tighter control for a two to three months and we'll check again.
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I'll admit it. I'm a big fan of cheap wine. Yummy. Give me some Boones Farm Strawberry Zinfandel on a hot summer night, and I'll get my buzz on - and get it on good. And I used to, back in the day, enjoy a nice cigarette (or ten) with my wine. Even now, every so often, I'll get a craving for a cigarette. Thankfully, the urge is usually cured by the smell of a heavy smoker passing by and occasionally cured by a simple, single drag on another person's gross-stick.
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When it comes to following a healthy meal plan, I usually do pretty well in my own kitchen. It helps that I was diagnosed with diabetes long before I met my husband and he understands my many food quirks. Basically, anything tempting is simply not allowed to enter the house, and if it does, it needs to be under the cloak of darkness.
From time to time, however, a forbidden treat manages to sneak in. A platter of jumbo chocolate chip cookies, a bag of dark chocolate truffles, the defrosted top tier of our wedding cake-all dangerous delights that have found their way into my kitchen in the last few weeks.
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Additional considerations. Lately, they're making me crazy. Diabetes serves up a plate load of them. Every. Day.
The insulin pump at my hip - and how to keep it dry. The insulin that goes in the pump - and how to keep it cold. My hip-hopping bloodsugar - and how to make it sit somewhat still. The food I eat - and how to keep it from sending my bloodsugar levels soaring. And all the medicine and supplies - and how to pay for them all.
That last is a big deal. A really big deal.
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