Well, I could tell you about incident in Epcot when I whispered to my Mother-In-Law that I wanted to go tell "Marie" from the Aristocats to "get her furry a%* back to the line and sign my daughter's autograph book" after she left right when it was Bridget's turn...but, it isn't really D-related, so I'll scratch that story...see I truly have issues.
I could talk about the swarm of mom and dad stroller-pushers that used their strollers as "cattle prods" to out-inch and out-maneuver those of us on foot...blocking us at every turn trying to reach the coveted line to the Princesses and Fairies after Toon Town opened in the Magic Kingdom...rolling over the back of my flip-flops, ircking me off, and then racing Bridget and I to be first in line...but, nah...again, not D-related...this one I think anyone would be annoyed over BTW.
So, that leaves me with the GREEDY GUY in the BUFFET LINE.
The point of this story is how I once again get screwed out of food because I am ALWAYS the last to eat. It has somehow become my DUTY to do the diabetes care when we are out, at social functions, sitting down to dinner at a restaurant etc...So, without further delay...The FRIED SHRIMP STAND-OFF with the guy in the buffet line.
Each night in Disney we had reservations at some "Country" in Epcot or at a Hotel where inevitably a buffet of food was being served. You can imagine the "joy" of walking a self absorbed, overstimulated, over tired, diabetic 6 year old BOY through a buffet line. I had to remind him that "hello...there is a line here" and to wait his turn; to watch out for others etc. etc. etc. I was left to discuss food choices, measure, guess on carb counts of foods from all around the world...I threw caution to the wind many nights in Disney for sure. Once we got back to the table, I would get Joe's bolus cranking for the food on his plate. Then I would head back to the buffet line to make myself a plate.
On the night in question, the buffet happened to be fish. I was going through the main course line...and just wanted to try a couple of the fried shrimp. Unfortunately, at the time I was in the line the fried shrimp were all gone. No worries, I had plenty of other foods to choose from. I figured I'd hit the fried shrimp on my second pass. So, I went back to the table. I eat a few bites of my dinner and then, of course, Joe is ready for "seconds". I take his "order" and then head back out to the buffet thinking that I'll go get my fried shrimp.
The fried shrimp was at the VERY END of a LONG line for the seafood. I ONLY wanted the fried shrimp and just a few at that. So I "park it"...across from my food of choice...hoping to hop into the line once it thins out (I guess you could call it "cutting in line"). I see a rather large man making his way up the line and there is a BIG BREAK in the line after him. So, I am thinking Great, I'll just grab my shrimp after he helps himself. Well, doesn't this guy take spoonful after spoonful after spoonful after spoonful...after spoonful (I added an extra "after spoonful" for good measure) of the fried shrimp. SERIOUSLY?! By this point, due to his greed and gluttony, not only are there a limited number of precious shrimp left but there is no longer the nice big break in the line for me to "cut" in. An elderly lady is now hot on his heels. She arrives at my desired platter and SLOWLY grabs her serving of fried shrimp, one shrimp at a time with TONGS mind you...it takes FOREVER...and once she's through there are only like a couple of shrimp and crumbs left in the pan. At this point, I am DONE. I cut off a lady at the butter dispenser, I grab a butter bowl and scoop up the remaining shrimp...I was not even gonna deal with those cumbersome tongs and I then march off...back to the table in a bit of a huff.
Can anyone say "FOOD RAGE" issues here...
So, you must think I am a "hot head" when it comes to my food. I feel somewhat selfish for even mentioning this...but it is truly how I feel, so here goes. I guess what bothers me is that so often my needs...especially when it comes to eating with the family are placed on the back burner...EVERY TIME. I make sure Joe's food is measured, weighed, carb counted. I ask him to wash his hands and check his blood sugar. I am the one who directs the bolus or does the bolus...and only then, at that point, do I get my food and sit down to eat. By the time I sit down, Joe is more often than not ready for seconds...so that requires the whole process to begin again...measure, weigh, bolus. So, yes, I am somewhat resentful about the "eating situation" at times...and the "Stand-off in the Buffet Line" over the Fried Shrimp exemplified this perfectly. I overreacted (internally...trust me I was a model of patience and grace externally...seething mad internally), ready to combust over "normal" buffet-like behavior, especially for a guy with a large habitus. This resentful, food-deprived, D-mom realizes she needs to DELEGATE a bit more so that she can get a GRIP.
So for a little therapy...an apology letter...
Dear Overweight Guy in the Buffet Line (taking WAY more shrimp that you should be BTW),
I am so very sorry for my impure thoughts about the portion of fried shrimp that you served yourself in Disney World. I know it is none of my business what-so-ever, what you eat, how much you eat, etc. I don't know what came over me.
You see, my family...especially Dave, Bridget, and I have been sneaking food for years. Yes, I realize this is "unhealthy" behavior. We are trying to avoid having to deal with bolusing Joe with Insulin for extra carbs or unknown carbs. Also, I am a bit bitter over the fact that I am ALWAYS the last to eat. In line, that night...with the shrimp...I was LOSING IT because not only was I the last to eat, but you were holding me up further by serving yourself an ENORMOUS...make that a GINORMOUS (gigantic + enormous) portion.
Anyway, I realize I had an extreme reaction to "normal" buffet-like behavior and I am going to acknowledge my problem. I will work on my FOOD RAGE issues...and possibly see a therapist...or better yet...I'll BLOG about it.
Joe's inefficient and at times psychotic pancreas