Loosened from the mud, I find myself floating in a world of possibility.

So can you.

The ongoing struggle with carbs...

On Wednesday, I had another appointment at the Fairview Diabetes Center. I had reverse reactions than what I experienced last time.

My meeting with the nutritionist, the one "in training" went fairly well. It seemed like an informative discussion about how to amend my diet so that I am not hungry and getting the necessary nutrition to grow a healthy baby. The only odd thing was when we talked about adding protein to my evening snack and she suggested I eat some turkey. I don't know about you, but eating a slice of turkey at 10:30 at night makes me want to retch just thinking about it. She said that cheese or cottage cheese would be good supplement. She also suggested I eat some berries with some Greek yogurt. Not sure what Greek yogurt is, but I objected to the berries because they absorb pesticides way more than other fruits. The berries at the Co-op are from Mexico and quite frankly, do not look all that appetizing. Way too out of season for me. We settled upon cut up pears in the yogurt.

My meeting with the diabetes educator was extremely frustrating, to the point where I almost started crying, but I sucked it and hung in there. At one point she said that I wasn't getting enough carbs in my diet. That if I couldn't eat a slice or two of french bread and process that sufficiently, I should be on medication. I'm thinking, well, I'm not french, and french bread is not typically part of an Indian diet. Most of the breads in a Gujarati meal are made from a light wheat flour, not white flour. I was frustrated. Then, when I mentioned that I uncomfortable prompting my pancreas to unnaturally produce more insulin (which is what the pills do), she looked at me said in a very sassy manner "Excuse me? Prompting your pancreas?" I hate it when people get annoyed when I speak intellectually about a subject. My father-in-law doesn't like it. My former supervisor did not like it. I am 38, dang-it, and no longer want to hide my intelligence just to make others more comfortable. Dang-it! I want to talk about this gestational diabetes in an intelligent and informed manner, not from my sensual cravings from pasta. She wanted me to dumb it down...

I'm starting to think they get their funding from Mcdonalds.


  1. I love your intelligence. Its one of my favorite things about you. *smiles*

    I hope that you don't need to see that woman again!


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