Like an alcoholic on a binge, I fell off the wagon this weekend in the hardest way possible. After 2.5 years of carefully watching my food intake and following the rules, I completely lost control over the past 4 days. I’m not going to claim to never cheat because that would be a lie. I actually think the occasional cheat helps maintain my mental health so I do it once in a while in a very moderate way.
There was nothing moderate about the last 4 days. I lost it and, sitting here this morning, it’s like a bad montage scene from a movie, in my mind. Pizza, cheeseburgers, fries, dinner rolls, alcohol, cookies - all float past as vague “yeah, I ate that too” memories.
I really don’t know what happened. I’m generally pretty level headed but Friday I just started feeling overwhelmed. The unrelenting ugliness in the news, the never-ending pandemic, being unemployed while watching my wife trudge off to teach high school, the fatigue of having a disease that will never go away - somehow it just all added up to a “screw it, I’m at least going to eat what I want” tantrum.
I didn’t test the entire weekend. Deep down I knew seeing the number would shock me into better behavior and I wanted the next chocolate chip cookie more than I wanted to be healthy at that moment. Today, it was time to face the music. Morning fasting blood sugar - 150; about 40 points higher than average. Ughhh. Talk about an early morning slap in the face.
So, here I am after my “lost weekend”. The news still sucks, coronavirus is still around, didn’t magically get a job, all the problems are still here but I’ve added a temporarily screwed up blood sugar to the mix. I’m a genius, aren’t I?
The moral of the story is simple. A cheeseburger isn’t going to solve your problem.
Tl; dr. I ate all of the stuff I shouldn’t because I was sick of the world and my blood sugars skyrocketed. I’m an idiot.
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