Looking at my blog stats, I notice my views are increasing. I am imagining someone out there is checking to see if I am writing. My vanity wants to believe many people are out there anxiously awaiting my contributions to the literary webosphere, holding their communal breath in anticipation of some insightful view into life as I see it.
More likely, these new views are my own footprints on a desert island. "I am not alone! And my invisible companion has size 7 1/2 feet with high arches."
That notwithstanding, I really am in the mood to write again. I left myself, over a year ago, tripping through Vegas. I actually am not still in Vegas, although lost in Vegas sounds like a fun premise. I still have photos in my camera from the last days of my trip and the task of removing them from my camera is still on my expanding to-do list. I think it's a "C" priority. Nice to get it done, but not mission critical. But blogging, that's a "B". Important for me. Not urgent, like if I don't write, I'll end up homeless or owing money or starving or injured or damaging relationships or missing opportunities or losing money or.... But important, because a Renaissance Woman should really be writing.
So, today is a day with a migraine headache. I get them about once a month anymore. I used to live in migraineland. I do not agree with people when they say you need to suffer every once in a while to appreciate how nice it is to not suffer. While I am in the middle of a migraine, like today, I do truly wish it was gone, and I know how good I'll feel when it's gone. Once it is gone.... I will not dignify the whole headache process with any contemplation. I forget I ever had them. Not interested. Stupid things have wasted too many years of my life to be of any importance or contemplation when they are not there.
But I am thinking, practically exclusively, of migraines today. I have a YouTube ocean in my ears. YouTube Ocean . I am wearing a baseball cap, in the dark, and I am trying desperately not to throw up. If it weren't so stinking sunny and hot (read: Otherwise beautiful day), I'd go for a long walk in fresh air and hit the gym. UGGH.
Ok, ok, ok.... 'Nuff!!!! So, on to my new project. The project, as stated, is to get the fasting blood sugar down to a level that makes my doctor not say, "Humm, your fasting blood sugar is too high. We have to watch that." My fasting blood sugar was 101. "Were you really fasting?" my doctor says. I join a gym and work out 3 days a week and lose 5 pounds. "Huh, so you started exercising to drop your fasting blood sugar? That's funny."
"Why is that funny?" I ask.
"Because it's gone up to 104. Were you really fasting?"
So, me, and my totally rational, reasonable terror of diabetes, are on a mission to have healthy insulin response. That means low glycemic index food, low calorie intake, exercise, more exercise, more exercise... I know, I know, the bottle of Coke from the Mexican restaurant was not cool, and the Snickers I am about to get is really not cool, but I have a migraine. Stop judging.... you can be so stinking judgmental... Besides, Snickers is low glycemic. (Look halfway down this page if you don't believe me )
Pause
(wiping chocolate from the corners of my mouth) Well I guess I have an explanation for why it's taken an entire year to lose 20 pounds. And I have another 20 to go. Let's hope it doesn't take another full year to lose that.
My head hurts. I want to cry.
