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When You Do Nothing Write/Right
So I think I’ll go cut weeds*
I’m a Type 2 Diabetic that enjoys her food — the wrong kinds of food. So my A1c is too high and this week I’ll be getting a monitor that checks my blood sugar all the time. As in Big Brother is watching you.
Morgan’s By-pap machine had something similar and Big Brother knew he wasn’t using it so we took it back to the farm…er…oxygen supply place. Not a problem for me. I attribute my stroke to our nightly fights about him using or not using it.
At 72 I want to enjoy the rest of my days. And for me that means a glass of wine (ONE) every evening while I watch General Hospital. And maybe a slice of pizza once a week and a hot fudge sundae every two weeks.
There are so many things I can no longer do — at least let me EAT what I want.
I’ve been overweight all my life. I’ve had skinny people telling me what to eat and what not to eat for more than sixty years. I know a big part of my problem is that food is comfort to me. It’s been that way all my days. Large bowl of pasta with butter on the nights my husband would go out without me (at least two nights a week).
Be it known to all: Xanax is not as good as pasta…
But I want to live, I guess. I don’t need to Google Diabetic Diet. I know what I should eat and what I…
