Oh, Sweet Pee...

Yep. My chocolate chomping days are over.
I have Type II diabetes.
I came home from the hospital, armed with some meds, lancets, blood collecting doodads and a swell little glucose-o-meter for my 4x daily bloodletting.
Aviva tells me now I can refuse to eat anything, using my delicate condition as an excuse. I always used allergies as an excuse before. Now I can use the word 'coma' to dissuade people from forcing me to taste their fucking lentil loaf.
My best Friend Anna offered to swap my precious hoard of imported chocolates for "a bag of tofu." Bitch.
Aviva said I'd have to wear a medic alert bracelet. The wild maned vixen with the flashing eyes is a little on the nerdy side if she thinks I am adding a sickly gimp bracelet to my dubious fashion repertoire.
So.
Here's to no more red label Coke, no more Haagen Dazs coffee, no more Venezuelan El Rey chocolate, no more hand made truffles, no more warm, homemade cobblers, no more bread pudding, no more Stonewall Kitchens wild Maine blueberry preserves, no more hot cocoa, no more pumpkin and pecan pie, and no more Coffeemate Hazelnut creamer.
When runner Jim Fixx died years ago, I said it was because he used up all his exercise energy. I guess I have used up all my sugar chances.
No cigarettes, no sweets, that just leaves sex and rock n' roll.
The doctors said I needed to drop 35 pounds. With no sugar, that could be easy.
They said I had to exercise more. Know-it-all bastards.
But, I'll do it because I love this life I have.
So what? I have a chronic disease that's managed primarily by healthy eating and exercise. Sounds like a life sentence of common sense.
Gotta go, I have to go prick myself, eat my Lean Cuisine Hunan beef with three grains of rice and two broccoli buds, then ride that fucking bike for five miles.