Since my visit to the endocrinologist, things have been rough, to say the least. I've had a hectic few weeks and between getting my bloodsugar back in check to attempting to get my apartment rented out, I've been pretty stressed out.
Last night I had pasta for dinner. In moderation, I can control everything. I was in moderation. And yet, my blood sugar spiked to 400, and I wasn't feeling good. After a while of taking insulin and not coming back down, I freaked out. My head felt light, my body ached, and I wanted to cry. So, I had my boyfriend drive me to my mom's so I could change an infusion site that I'd already changed once that day. That ended up doing the trick.
Of course, while I'm there, why not weigh myself with a belly full of pasta and the rest of the day's delights?
211. I weighed 211 pounds.
I'm so embarrassed. I've weighed around 200 for a few years now, priding myself on not gaining a freshman fifteen. But now, here we are.
I do martial arts, I don't consider myself weak or incredibly out of shape (although recently I've had to focus more on school and my diabetes than my workouts). But this? I'd thought I'd lost weight, things were fitting looser. But it may be that my muscle is converting to (gulp!) fat.
It's a vicious cycle. Bloodsugar is low, eat, feel better, feel worse, bloodsugar is high, take insulin. I'm so sick of it. Last night I talked out loud during a state of crisis about how I wish I wasn't diabetic for the first time since I was in middle school. I wish I wasn't, because then I'd feel well enough to be in class right now.
I'm so tired.
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