Oh how I miss you dear friends! Boxes upon boxes of donuts, with your various frostings, fillings, and delightful variety of sprinkles! And my dear Count Chocula, you and your cousins Frankenberry and Booberry haunted my every Saturday morning until the final cartoon went off the air at 11:30. Old friend, triple-meat, triple-cheesburger; I still call upon your delicious existance on the Ides of March, and yet your high fat content stays with my blood sugar for a fortnight.
These days, a donut here or there can be managed with an aggressive bolus timed just so. Cereal is a blood-sugar bomb. If there's a way to bolus for it, I certainly haven't figured it out yet. I cannot deny my indulgences in cheeseburgers, although my days of the triple-meat are fairly well passed. To be clear, I was not overweight when I was diagnosed, and NO, these things did not cause me to have type 1 diabetes. They just happen to be some old friends that don't understand diabetes and so I just prefer not to play with them anymore. They're that weird kid on the street that wore swimming goggles year-round.
I miss a lot of other stuff too. Like being able to roll over at night without a pump jabbing me in the ribs, or being able to sit through long meetings without whipping out a juice box. (Seriously, how many grown men still have to carry around juice boxes with "Big Bird" on them?) Mostly, I just miss being....normal?