Well today is the day I finally accept, after 43 years of denial (probably slight exaggeration as I don’t suppose I gave this much thought for the first 12 years of my life) that, wait for it…
EXERCISE IS GOOD FOR ME.
Today I received irrefutable evidence in the form of my blood glucose testing meter. For the first time since testing, I managed to get my BG within acceptable levels 2 hours after eating, despite eating mainly carbs (albeit a slow releasing one in the form of porridge).
I should be rejoicing, I should be dancing round the table, but frankly, after running for three quarters of an hour whilst pushing a 6 year old up hills on her bike, I am too knackered and my butt aches. More to the point, I know where this sad conclusion is going – on lots more runs…..
Next step, practice knitting while running – so far have managed gentle swaying and garter stitch. How I wish I loved a challenge.
My eldest daughter often forgets to flush the toilet. Yesterday I was faced with the largest loo log. It seemed way too impressive for either of my daughters to have managed, however, I established was indeed daughter 1 (would have been more amusing to write daughter 2, but truth will out).
I then caught myself staring at it in admiration and longing for the time when I could create something of similar proportions. You would have thought that a diet consisting largely of pulses and fibre would produce the opposite effect, but I seem to have turned into a rabbit in the pooing department. Am blaming it on the drugs….
12.00 Martha and Alice visit yea oldy sweetie shoppie and buy one bag of butter fudge and a large entirely sugar pig. Daddy helps Martha with the fudge
12.30 Fish and chips from yea oldy fishy and chippy shoppie for Alice, Martha and Daddy
Mummy: NOTHING (ok, I lie, I ate an apple I had in my bag
1.30 Yea oldy bakery-y. Daddy enjoys still-warm homemade shortbread. The girls munch their way through more fudge and sugar
Mummy, nothing… again.
2.00 – mummy in desperation tries yea oldy Victorian butchers. Something of a last resort for a diabetic fussy plant eater.
Mummy, nothing – funnily enough.
2.40 – hurrah, yea not-so-oldy Victorian café. The girls head to the ice cream freezer while mummy heads to the food counter.
It shut at 2.30 – you can still have cake though…
Mummy: Nothing (and she made the girls put their ice creams back)
3.45 the modern café back at the beginning of Victorian land. Surprise, they stop serving food at 3.30. Still there are crisps and ice creams for the girls and Daddy can have a nice scone…
Mummy, a lovely cup of coffee and finally some proper Victorian food in the form of porridge.
All is well in Victorian land.