The Birth of a New Blog OR "Bitch, You Done It Now."
Done what, you ask? Well, apparently I am a fat bitch who has stuffed her pie-hole with so much pie and Baskin Robbins and chocolate in her adult life, that I have now entered the happy kingdom of "Borderline Diabetic."
Got a physical last week. My fasting blood sugar count was 112. This is smack dab in the middle of the danger zone, the "pre-diabetic" zone. Kind of like getting a pre-engagement ring. Except for, instead of then getting the follow up of a real engagement ring, and then a wedding, and then happiness/love/grooviness, you get real diabetes and then insulin shots and then blindness, no feeling in your feet, the loss of various limbs, and death. (That is, if you don't control your life.)
But wait. 112. It's still in the controllable stage. As long as I change my vile ways and avoid sweets, alcohol, uber-fatty meals, etc. and exercise 30 minutes a day.
Exercise I can do. I've been doing it for awhile. I just need to up it to every day.
But no sweets? Why doesn't the doctor tell me to just move to a different planet? Huh? That would be easier. Much.
Got a physical last week. My fasting blood sugar count was 112. This is smack dab in the middle of the danger zone, the "pre-diabetic" zone. Kind of like getting a pre-engagement ring. Except for, instead of then getting the follow up of a real engagement ring, and then a wedding, and then happiness/love/grooviness, you get real diabetes and then insulin shots and then blindness, no feeling in your feet, the loss of various limbs, and death. (That is, if you don't control your life.)
But wait. 112. It's still in the controllable stage. As long as I change my vile ways and avoid sweets, alcohol, uber-fatty meals, etc. and exercise 30 minutes a day.
Exercise I can do. I've been doing it for awhile. I just need to up it to every day.
But no sweets? Why doesn't the doctor tell me to just move to a different planet? Huh? That would be easier. Much.
1 Comments:
At 3:53 PM, Anonymous said…
HA! I feel your pain, being a chunky bastard myself. At least you had the guts to get checked out, Candy.
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