The Cake is a Lie

I apologize to any readers for the long delay between posts (about two months... a new record!).  Between more hours at work -everybody went on vacation except me- and final exams coming up with the kids' homeschool, I've been occupied.  Besides, those Farmville crops aren't going to harvest themselves, damnit!

Anywho, I mentioned previously my bout with diabetes.  It has now been over three months since I was diagnosed, and things are going very well.  My blood-sugar level went from 250 when I was diagnosed, to under 120 for the past two weeks.  For those not in the know, the average B/S level is 80-120.  And yes, that pun was intended.  Despite the good numbers, the massive weight loss (down at least 35lbs.) and generally feeling pretty damned good, it's still rough.

I hate having to remind myself about my condition on a daily basis.  If checking my b/s every morning and meticulously watching what I eat doesn't do it, I have what I call my "Three Nutritionists" to remind me.  In other words, my wife and kids are my constant watchdogs, barking if I even LOOK at a candy bar.  My youngest, Oscar, turned 10 in March.  My wife made him a cool cake (Pac-Man chasing cupcake ghosts).  Now, I've never been a big fan of cake.  I'd rather, if having sweets at all, gobble down some ice cream or a candy bar.  I think I just mentioned candy bars twice in the same paragraph, haven't I?  Anyway, I hadn't planned on ingesting any of the cake, instead sitting down at the table and having a nice sandwich (on whole grain bread, mind you).  As soon as I sat down with plate in hand, Oscar piped up: "No cake for YOU, Diabetes Boy!"

On one hand, I was shocked and appalled.  On the other, he's rarely made me so proud with his use of biting wit and absurd humor.  I laughed it of and resisted the urge to lick his piece of cake in revenge.

Now, I actually know a lot about nutrition and exercise.  Living from the ages of seven to seventeen morbidly obese, I declared "Enough!".  My senior year of high school saw me going on a very strict diet of my own devising, eating nothing I considered "junk food": sweets, potato chips, pretzels, candy bars (damn you Snickers!  Stop invading my thoughts!), etc.  I worked out with weights and cardio six nights a week.

Then i met my wife.

Dear lord, the woman can cook.  After marrying the love of my life, I started enjoying sweets and chips again, and slacked off the exercising.  Again, the weight piled on.  People often offered advice -mistakenly assuming they were being helpful- about diet and exercise.  I already knew, I just didn't care at the time.  My standard response: "If a priest can be a marriage counselor, a fat guy can know about nutrition,".

Fast forward a few years, and I'm back on the diet again.  I don't miss the sweets or soda, really.  But the crunchies: chips, pretzels, french fries...  *Homer drool*  But, I have my wife and kids to think about.  Diabetes can be a killer, so i have to fight it.  No scrumptious concoction is worth my life.  Now, I'VE become the advice guy, turning the tables on my three nutritionists, pointing out the sugar and fat in the foods they eat in front of me.

Sorry, guys.  But the cake is a lie.