Yesterday was my one-year diaversary, and how did I celebrate? With cake! Yummy, sugary, properly-bolused cake!
Chad was awesome. I was feeling crumby from an earlier low BG and I tried extra hard to look all pathetic and tired and pregnant on the couch while I said I should eat cake for my diaversary. So Chad went to the nearest market with a bakery and brought back both red velvet and carrot cake!
They're individual slices of cake, but still just huge! I bolused (generously!), made marks in the icing to indicate how much I would eat so I wouldn't get carried away, and thoroughly enjoyed my treat. Chad had some of what I didn't eat and we still had plenty of cake leftover. That's how big these stupid (but tasty) slices of cake were! Supposedly two servings, but really more like 4.
And this was a little celebration, as far as I'm concerned. We weren't celebrating diabetes, we were celebrating the diagnosis and the fact that the disease is about as under control now as it could possibly be. (But let's not fool ourselves. There's no such thing as 100% control when it comes the the big D.) One year ago, I got the best bad news of my entire life.
My blood sugar behaved with the cake, and I went to bed feeling pretty much OK about life. Yeah. Life is pretty good.