And commence gasping at the title.
And now, you can get your mind out of the gutter :)
Guilty pleasures can span a wide range of topics. Ask my parents, and you'd think my guilty pleasure is texting. Trust me, if you saw my phone bill from a couple months ago, you'd agree with them. What can I say, Ari is a good listener (Katelyn, you made it on the list pretty often too!).
But of course, the number of text messages you can send in an hour doesn't affect your blood sugars. Unless of course you're texting so much that you don't realize you've gone low, and that could be a disaster. What I'm talking about is the guilty pleasure that kills you. The one food you eat that you can never get quite under control, but you love it. The worst thing for your diabetes, but the best thing for your soul.
When I was younger, it was pizza. I loved pizza with a passion. And that passion made my blood sugar high as much as 12 hours later. It was honest to goodness hell. My mother hated letting me eat it at birthday parties, and hated the inevitable gross feeling that came with me being in the 300's for 12 hours after taking that bite.
In the back of my seven year old brain, there was the voice of reason. Which as you can guess, sounded a helluva lot like my mother at that point in my life (now, it's more like a mix between my friend Garnet, and my history teacher Ms. O'Brien). The voice of reason is scary when it's saying "Hey. Hey Alexa. Yeah, I'm talking to you. You better put that pizza down. Put. It. Down." But as a seven year old, you never listen to the voice of reason.
Most seven year old girls don't have a voice of reason. But, when you've got diabetes, you have to learn how to think like an adult when you're a kid (I've often heard the expression "13 going on 30..." and an awkward giggle from the person). I think it's pretty impressive that I had a voice of reason. I probably wouldn't have been able to listen to it even if I wanted to.
But, back to the pizza. Well, the pizza story is kinda coming to an end. I remember one night, after a birthday party, that I'd had my Dad come in and check my blood sugar and it was something like 390. And it's all that fat and grease in a big, fat slice of pizza.
I still love pizza, and as I'm writing this, I'm thinking "Man, I could go for a HUGE pizza right about now." But something that I've seen lately seems like an appropriate mix of all of my more recent, teenage guilty pleasures.
This is the most amazing ice cream ever. Or, so I assume. I love chocolate, I love caramel, I love potato chips, and man do I love ice cream. This is all of them, in one delicious capsule of awesome. I am so ready to go and buy up an ocean of this stuff. And believe me, this is going to take a lot of novolog and a run around the block. A lot of running around the block.
So, guilty pleasures? Yeah, they're worth it.