Every day I misread “Diabetes Awareness Month” as Diabetes Awesomeness Month.
This awesome part of awareness I get: everyone with any kind of diabetes is in it together, in terms of lobbying, mutual respect, and carbs. Helping each other, the love, mad props. But I don’t understand why so many people are underlining their belief that one variety of diabetes is no worse than any another.
Type 1 or 2 is much worse than whatever you would call what I am doing here. Technical Type 1? I don’t have to do anything except avoid carbs. I have no medicine, and no robot parts. No one criticizes my numbers or tells me I’m fat. It’s the best of (avoiding the downsides of) both worlds.
Although stupid Halloween/Butterfinger peanut butter cups—->high—>crash—>sit on floor, eat three consecutive children’s yogurts while eyeing a jar of granola bars and vowing to never let another item of fun size climb into my mouth. My bad.
This is all to say that from my (unique? absurd? absolute turd?) perspective, some kinds of diabetes are definitely worse than others. Players, why is that not okay to say? Diabetes awareness month makes me hyperaware of the ease: I’m going to eat an apple. I don’t need to take medicine. And then I will drive a car without bleeding. Etc.
Maybe the point of the good-hearted all-types-are-my-type types is this: don’t compare. Just don’t bother! Comparison is the thief of joy. But if you were going to ignore that wisdom and compare, wouldn’t you say for peril and high maintenance, the worst type is Type 1? And for people talking smack about you, the worst type is Type 2?
Paradoxically, saying one type is worse is equivalent to saying that (worse) type is better. Better and more deserving of research dollars, insurance coverage, glam spokesmodels, service dogs, CGMs, bountiful test strips. I’ll volunteer my type for the role of best (worst) (i.e. least deserving.) But I guess that’s another reason to not compare: counterproductive divisions. Did I aware myself?
Actually, the whole thing is a beast, but the people are nice. Meanwhile, here are some muffins and things humans of all types can eat:
OMG CK. My only tweaks were to sprinkle the tops with real sugar (the rest of the sweet was Swerve, as per CK) and to squeeze some of the lemon-I’d-zested’s juice into the almond milk, as a wish and prayer for extra lemoniness.
Oh, and this: I did not stir in the blueberries as directed; instead, I portioned them onto the batter by hand (globbing a small amount of batter into each muffin cup, plopping on some berries, then globbing on the remaining batter, then plopping on the remaining berries) to avoid the discoloration my hulk hands bring to any mixed-in frozen blueberry situation.
Everyone at our house loved these. They are like completely normal yummy muffins for < 10g CHO. No one asked if they were sugarless: win-win-win-win-win.
This is something to eat when you realize there is no food in your house. I was reminded to make this kind of salad by some ladies in town (but the link above is to a template at Post Punk Kitchen) who now make three varieties commercially. Their versions are way better than mine. (You can buy it!)
Homemade is good enough: drain/rinse/mash one can chick peas, add a splash of ACV, minced shallot or scallions, celery, parsley, salt, pepper, and as much mayo as you like. I like a lot. It’s like 50 g CHO for the whole thing, and serves at least two hale persons. Store it in a jar in the fridge and grab bites when you are ravenous or eat it on romaine leaves in a civilized manner, like with a plate.
This does not mess with my blood glucose at all, but your (worse* kind of) diabetes may vary. (*Better.)
This is another good thing to eat when you think you have nothing. These must be lower carb/glycemic than actual latkes. My kids said they taste like scallion pancakes from the GF Thai takeout. Replace most of the potato with extra carrots. Eat with applesauce or with the curry-yogurt sauce in the recipe. YUM.
The baked macaroni and cheese from How Can It Be Gluten Free?
This is so good. It would make normal people at a potluck jealous. 350g CHO for the whole thing, which serves at least 8. So 45-ish g CHO per eighth. My only tweak is the book says to bake this in an 8″ x 8″ pan but it doesn’t fit—you need a 9″ x 13″ pan.
That is a note to my future self, who is sure to turn up here one day.