Last weekend I was at a kiddie birthday/barbecue party enjoying the sunshine, when suddenly I heard the word “Diabetes” loud and clear over the din. For once I was in an environment where hardly anyone knew me well, so I was definitely thrown. There goes my D-free day, I thought…
As I approached the cake-cutting area, I found two teenagers grappling over a small plastic plate piled high with a cake corner, topped by 2-inch-thick Buzz Lightyear icing. “Here!” one of them shouted as she jabbed the plate in her friend’s face, “have some diabetes!” (Gaggles of giggles) “No, here!” shrieked the other, scooping a chunk with her fingers and heading for her friend’s mouth, “You eat your diabetes!” We all stumbled backwards as they wrestled.
One of the mothers, who does know me, looked uncomfortable. “Do you know who actually has diabetes?” she asked, a little too loudly. “Amy! She writes a blog and even wrote a book about it.”
“Oh,” said the girls in unison, looking me up and down with puzzled expressions (that tapered skirt makes me look pretty lanky).
“Well, I don’t have the kind you get from eating too many doughnuts,” I blurted. Blank looks… Gesturing awkwardly toward the cake I added, “But once you have it, you still can’t eat that shit!”
Editor’s Note: I think I handled that pretty well, don’t you? (NOT.)