Sometimes I just wanna eat.
I don't want to think about it. I don't want to count carbs. I don't want to worry about if I should or shouldn't be eating a certain thing.
Sometimes I look around and I see all of these gross people mindlessly stuffing themselves full of french fries and pasta and cake and triple mochaccinos with an extra shot of "carb" and I just wanna be them.
Of course, I'd be sick to my stomach at the end of a day of eating like that, but still. You get my point.
Heck, it's even just the wanting to eat some soup and salad for lunch and hoping the bolus goes ok (too much? too little? too EVERYTHING?)
Now, I know that doctors and diabetes educators tell us we can *technically* eat whatever we want (especially someone like me, who tends to be underweight) but we all know that's not a healthy way to live. And honestly, I like eating healthy. But sometimes I just want some damn french fries. And why do I not eat french fries, you ask?
1) They are a carb count I will never figure out. What is 15 grams of french fry? Do you count them, one by one? Do you just grab a handful?
2) They require a combo bolus (dual wave, to medtronic users) that I simply can't get right. I already have a hard time with this type of bolus, but I really don't wanna mess my cards up doing it on flippin' french fries. Let's just say hours of painful work ensue.
3) I actually don't like french fries that much (honestly). But man, when I want some....
*Please insert the word "pasta" into the above numerical discussion. Now you see why there are just certain foods that make me wanna cry. Especially because I technically *can* grab a handful of french fries in an attempt to measure them, but with pasta? C'mon on. That's just not a dining experience you'd want to share with anybody.
What I'm talking about here is intimacy. With food. My food. But it becomes more than just "my food". Sometimes it feels like it really isn't my food. I look around at a picnic or a restaurant or a dinner party sometimes and it seems like everybody's got their own food but me. Like me and food need to go outside and have a little chat; make an agreement: now you be nice this time. I told you about how what you did last time was so.not.cool
There is so much that goes into eating a meal when you're a type 1 diabetic that you simply cannot plan for...the pre-meal number. The type of food. What you're doing after you eat. The random person who comes up to you to say hi right as you are calculating a bolus, causing you to forget you wanted to do a combo bolus instead of a straight shot. Oops. Life happens.
It takes away the ability to savor your food sometimes. Don't get me wrong, I also think type 1 diabetics are some of the most savor-your-food type people on the planet. But there's always a twinge of anxiety as you check that post-meal number, hoping the calculations and planning and timing and...conversations all.went.right.
So sometimes I just wish I really owned it. Food, I mean. Like we had this intimate relationship. An understanding...the way it should be when your immune system isn't busy attacking your pancreas (what the heck are you doing down there! Get back to your real job, ya lazy...SYSTEM!) Then, you just eat. Mindlessly sometimes. But in my [mostly] healthy world of living and eating, mindlessly simply means I'm focusing on the conversation with my honey. Or my friend. Or my book. Or whatever got stuck in my tooth.