For many of us, our sense of self is tied to our glucometers, our pumps, and/or our CGMs. "Sad, but true," you may say. The truth is, we tether ourselves to these devices to maintain and/or improve our lives. In addition, most jurisdictions require us to carry at all times some form of government-issued identification -- and of course, we dare not go anywhere without our health insurance cards and our cell phones.

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Now, about this time, I ought to tell my friendly hairdresser that I really need to retest. That it'll only take a minute. That I'm a bit dizzy. But I don't. And I have this irrational and overwhelming urge to laugh as I picture myself pulling a Steel Magnolias'-style Shelby freak out in my own, hometown version of Truvy's Salon. Still, I don't say anything, as I am wrapped in a smock and my hair falls in small, trim-length strands all around. Everything is a bit turned around. The older lady from earlier is STARING at me again. I wonder what she's thinking.

I wonder if she thinks whatever I've got is catchy. I'm sure I look a fright. I try to focus on staying upright as the cut is finished and my hair is styled. When it's done, I sit in the chair too long, trying to gather my things, throwing away the spent juice bag and mentos wrapper. I test gain, 5-4-3-2-1... "41 mg/dl." Oof. Not so hot. (READ MORE)