Let’s talk about food. And start with last month when i saw my fabulous internist and she looked up from my lab report and held her thumb and forefinger about 1/32nd of an inch apart to graphically represent the distance between me and the onset of diabetes.
Well, she’s been after me for a couple of years to cut back on my sugars and starches, thinking that this will postpone the diabetes until i can die of something else, and i’d been trying to hold myself back, but obviously not enough. So since i last saw her i’ve been trying to ease into some serious carbohydrate restriction. Well, consistent with going ahead and eating up all the carbohydrates in my pantry except for the 25 lb. sacks of sugar that are strictly reserved for the jams and jellies that i make to give away. I’ve been solving the chocolate sauce problem by not making any.
It hasn’t been easy to give up all my favorite foods, and i’m still cheating enough that i have not yet driven myself into ketosis, which i understand to be a condition in which your brain, desperate for glucose, turns to the fat in your body for sustenance, or something like that.
I was telling Sybil about my efforts the other day, and she delicately suggested that perhaps i ought to run this master plan past my doctor before implementing it, but i reassured Sybil a second opinion was not necessary because i’d go ahead and drink a carton of chocolate milk as an antidote if my breath started smelling like paint thinner.
A neighborhood bicycle in ketosis
Besides, i thought about it and realized, naw, go for the spectacle of my internist glancing up from my next lab report, heaving a great sigh, fixing me with That Look, and inquiring, “How did you do this to yourself?”