Thursday, August 30, 2012

Pizza protest.

And so it starts.   I am officially facing irrational insulin resistance for the first time.  Dum dum dum! 

I've read about this part of pregnancy countless times and I knew this was coming, but it's still disappointing to have it begin.  One woman I read about would bolus for a full serving of oatmeal (roughly 25 g carbs for a cup) but would eat only a tablespoon of it and her blood sugar would surge so high that the rational carb:insulin ratio for everything else would be completely irrelevant and impossible to calculate for that particular food.  Scary....

Well, I've been on a serious Greek olive kick for the past couple months (I hated them previously, gotta love pregnancy cravings) and so HB and I regularly pick up this Greek pizza from a local pizzeria that scratches the olive itch and satisfies the quick easy meal when I am slacking and don't feel like cooking (Julia Child, please pardon me for this).  According to the pizzeria's nutrition information, each slice of this Greek pizza has 17 grams of carbs and, starting yesterday, no matter how much I bolus per slice - whether I double or even triple the amount of carbs per piece - I unavoidably shoot up into the 200s.  Dang.

Even with the cravings and ease of it all, such unpredictability isn't worth it and I'm bummed that this means pizza is out...

Back when I was pregnant with GW, I had pizza pretty much every day because it was just about the only food that didn't make me feel sick and we conveniently lived next to a fantastic Italian restaurant on Pentagon Row in Arlington, VA.  All I had to do was show up and sit down and this wonderful waitress named Monica would deliver to our table these amazing (pasteurized) goat cheese and spinach salads and one of these individual size pizzas with homemade sauce and ridiculously fresh toppings... yes, I was that predictable; yes, I was there that often; yes, HB was that supportive.

I guess I can say thank God that I live an hour south of that restaurant now and that pizza isn't my only source of sustenance this go around, but none the less it's frustrating to be diabetic, it is frustrating to be a pregnant diabetic and this irrational carb juggling simply sucks.  If it wasn't hard enough already, here's a new curve ball for ya! Boo hiss!

I hope someone out there - whoever you are - orders a pizza tonight and thoroughly enjoys it in absolute protest of my pancreas' tyrannical dictatorship and its cruel and unusual rejection of what ever it so capriciously whims!

Bon Appetit!

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