I’m not killing myself, I swear!

If I could get a message across to the whole world about what pisses me off most about being diabetic, it would be to mind your own business if I want to consecutively eat 4 bags of chips and an ice cream cone. I’m not comitting suicide, I swear! I’m a big boy and I can make my own decisions. If that decision involves me having to increase my insulin dosage at that given moment, so be it.

/end rant.

I have type 1 diabetes. Cool, eh? It isn’t so bad, except for the part where I have to stab myself with 4 needles a day, on top of pricking my poor little fingers to check my blood sugar every few hours (side note: is it just me, or does pricking hurt more that the injections?). Sometimes it’s fun to pretend that I’m a heroine addict when I’m in public and see people’s reactions when I whip out a needle and pretend to find a good vein in my arm. If that makes me strange then I don’t want to be normal.

I was diagnosed almost 2 years ago (November 2010), which happened to be my first year of University and first year away from home. Essentially this meant that I had to learn how to manage my glucose levels under the influence fairly quickly. I’d say I’ve become the guru of drunk diabetic decisions.

Please leave me in peace next time you see me eating my daily recommended intake of carbs in a single meal. Click a few extra notches on my insulin pen and I’ll be golden. πŸ˜‰

Warm regards,


6 thoughts on “I’m not killing myself, I swear!

  1. This is freakin’ brilliant!
    Also, I have to agree that pretending to be an addict in public makes for some good times, as do drunk diabetic decisions.

  2. I have to say, I understand. Last night I reached for a piece of chocolate and my boyfriend said ‘geez, you’re blood sugar is gonna be off the charts!’… and I wanted to slap him across the face. Seven times. But I didn’t. Silent treatment for a coupla hours did the trick. It’s no one’s business!! And yes, they care for you and all and want to make sure you’re doing the right thing, but flippin leave me alone for a bit!
    /end rant

    • I know they care, but sometimes it’s offensive to think that we’re careless enough to let our glucose levels soar. In the end they mean well, so I guess that’s the best we can ask for. πŸ™‚

  3. Seriously, so true! One of my favorite moments of people trying to help was the first time I went over to my best friend’s house after being diagnosed. Her mom had made spaghetti that night, carbolicious. She had also made brownies the night before and they were sitting out on the counted, just begging me to eat one. So I went to go cut a small piece, as I do try to behave even when I have a sweet tooth. But before I could get a taste of this brownie, my friend’s mom yelled at me to put it down and informed me that I was not allowed to eat it yet. First, she said, I had to eat a balanced meal. So she served me up a huge, restaurant sized plate of salad and spaghetti and garlic bread. So many carbs, or no many carbs? So many carbs.
    Anyways, after eating my 5000-carb “balanced meal” that was supposed to somehow protect me from the dangerous brownie that I just wanted a sliver of, I didn’t even want the brownie anymore because I always feel guilty when I pump myself with a ton of insulin.

    /end rant.

    I really just wish people understood that carbs are carbs, and that I can eat anything I want just as everybody with perfectly functioning pancreases. And that a brownie, or cookie, or piece of cake, is not going to kill me any faster than a heaping serving of spaghetti or bread or fruit or anything else that is eaten.

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