Why I am no longer a sugar daddy.
Friday, November 6, 2009 at 02:24PM 
Recently, my doctor told me that I have the glucose level of overripe sugar beet. Apparently, if I put one toe over the Vermont State line, I can legally be tapped and processed by the Log Cabin folks.
There is some irony in this diagnosis given that my ancestors grew sugar cane in Barbados. And from the looks of those ancient photos filled with rotund bodies, they consumed mass quantities of it as well.
I knew something was wrong when black bears started tossing away their honeycombs and began stalking me. Wild pack animals were looking at me like I was a walking Snickers Bar. And for swarms of mosquitoes, I was target practice and the body de jour.
Now I’m trolling the food aisles looking for anything that says “diabetic friendly.” This was my first mistake. I actually ate some sugar-free fudge and was immediately spot welded to the toilet for six hours. Most of the approved foods (I am using that term loosely) taste like a mix between an old chalkboard eraser and styrofoam packing peanuts.
My food pyramid has been upended. Carbohydrates (we call them carbs in the biz) are monitored like Bernie Madoff walking the yard. There are good carbs and bad carbs. I happen to like the bad-boy carbs. Things like strudel, stuffing, pizza and pasta, candy corn, and anything Nabisco can stuff into a Newton – the very items that will put me into a coma.
No more Captain Crunch. No more Dominos. No more Oktoberfest binges with busty beer maids. No more knocking the heck out of the Pillsbury Dough Boy while opening the buttermilk Grands. It’s basically a diet of protein and fat. In other words, I am eating like a Neaderthal or John Madden.
Like B.B. King, I am stabbing my finger with lancets to get a reading. It’s like performing a mini Hari kari on your digits. Suddenly, I feel a kinship with Wilfred Brimley. I have grown an enormous mustache and have affected a surly, blunt demeanor. If he's been off sugar and
carbs this long, no wonder he's surly.
I don’t intend to walk lockstep into taste oblivion – I already have found something called indigestible carbs. It’s a loofah. Not so surprisingly, there's a secret brethren trying to turn cotton candy and pie crust into healthy proteins. Wish us luck. We're like Masons with candy bars.
It’s no longer “home sweet home.” It’s “home low-glycemic home.”
Hey, works for me.
Reader Comments (1)
Okay, so you're a human glucose factory. That doesn't mean you'll sustain life on the diabetic foods pyramid. Check out the link here for some suggestions. Oh, and the mosquitoes, eat garlic. Garlic fixes everything.
www.annecollins.com/diabetic-diet-questions.htm