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."

Mind: "Yeah, right. You have anything BUT salad from this spread and you'll end up in the prison of high or low blood sugar for the rest of the day. It's jailbait. You'll be miserable. And you certainly won't want to play with your nephew on his birthday or socialize with family members. Step. Away. From the table."

Mouth: "Don't listen to that idiot. He's just blowing smoke. You can bolus and avoid the spike. You know you can."

Mind: "When have you ever over-indulged and been able to account for it properly with insulin? Think about it, Nicole, when?"

I think about it and realize that I don't have the answer I'd like to give. Eating with little or no moderation ALWAYS results in a wacky blood sugar for me. I end up high or low and totally unhappy that I took advantage in the first place.

Mouth: "Man. This sucks. Look at all of this food. You've got to...."

I take a small serving of macaroni & cheese. I take a little turkey - and leave the skin in the pan. I take a large portion of salad. And I serve myself two oreo cookies.

Mouth: "Aw. Potatoes. Carrots. Stuffing. More macaroni and cheese!!!!"

Mind: "Very good, Nicole. Moderation."

Mouth: "Ugh. You are so no fun."

Me: "Shut up. Both of you." (Out loud)

The woman behind me in line looks at me cross-eyed. I continue through and sit down with my nephew who is pretty much covered in mashed potatoes and cake frosting. I enjoy the food I've taken. And I go back for a second helping of turkey and salad. A small helping.

Three hours and a game of wiffle ball with my nephews, furious gift unwrapping, and a half a piece of birthday cake later, I test again. 152 mg/dl with just a bit of insulin on board. Not perfect. Not terrible. Just right.

Mouth: "But you didn't enjoy all that delicious food."

Mind: "Yeah, but you didn't spend the whole afternoon in blood sugar prison."

The internal debate is constant. And most of the time, both the big fat guy with the horns on my left shoulder and the trim fit guy with the halo and wings on my right shoulder are absolutely right. It's up to me to figure out how much to give up and how much to indulge. How much food is enough and how much will land me in a jail cell of glucose misery? I can only hope that more times than not I'll get it right. And on the occasions that I get it wrong, I can only hope it's worth it.