Crater

Another thrilling episode of:
 my body being ridiculous
 starring: me, lightheaded and annoyed
 a low-budget blood sugar thriller

Blood sugar drop.
 Well, crap.
 This hasn’t happened in a while.

Cue the shakes.
 Wobbliness.
 Dizziness.
 The full “am I about to pass out or just being dramatic?” experience.
 Uncomfortable doesn't even cover it.

Can I walk to the kitchen?
 Nope. Not playing that game tonight.

Immediate solution?
 Alert the husband.
 Cue his panic—not full-blown “call 911” panic,
 but a solid “oh shit, act fast” kind of moment.
 Mind goes temporarily blank.
 No OJ in the fridge.
 But hey—Werther’s Original.
 Because when life gives you low blood sugar,
 you suck on grandma’s candy and pray for a glucose miracle.

I should’ve eaten more
 than a handful of granola cereal.
 That’s not dinner.
 That’s bird food.
 I know this. My body definitely knows this.
 But my appetite?
 Missing in action.

I don’t eat much anymore.
 Not intentionally—just… meh.
 Just vibes and crossed fingers.

And yet, my blood sugar
 is somehow not a fan of this strategy.
 Rude.

Too much sugar? Bad.
 Too little? Worse.
 Not enough food?
 Apparently, “basically nothing” isn’t a great long-term plan.

I need to figure this out.
 Put it right on the to-do list,
 somewhere between “don’t pass out” and “figure out dinner.”

I don’t feel like eating.
 But I guess I must.
 Because “faceplanting into the floor”
 isn’t the aesthetic I’m going for.

So I nibble.
 Grudgingly.
 Resentfully.
 Like a toddler with a grudge.

What a glamorous life.

From Laugh. Sigh. Grit Teeth. Write About It