Just Relax…and Drink your Juicebox

August 31, 2012By 0 Comments

Any women who has ever been pregnant will tell you that your body is no longer your own.  Even before the ‘bump’ makes its appearance, the life force that takes over your outer being starts to rear its ugly head.  I was lucky enough to slide through the first trimester with no nausea and only a few slight cravings.  What I was not lucky enough to skip was the hormones that have bombarded and attacked my once-normal skin.  Pregnancy glow?  Shiny voluminous hair?  Huh?? When is that supposed to start presenting itself in the mirror.  I have been blessed with a little miracle, and in return I have handed my skin over to the pimple gods.

I like to pamper myself when I have the time and the money to do so, which isn’t always on a regular basis.  I was long over-due for a facial, so the other day I went to my regular esthetician.  I was coasting along with a blood sugar of about 90 for most of the morning.  Feeling great, and trying very hard to just relax and enjoy my pedicure before my facial, I kept an eye on where my blood sugars were trending.  Relaxing does NOT come easy for me.  Whether it is in my yoga class, or while trying to transport my body to a calm and peaceful place as the sound machine runs ocean waves over and over… I snap myself out of my grocery list, to-do list, work email list, and other misc errands running a muck in my head and try my damndest to melt away.

What makes relaxing even harder is… BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ.  Just as I start to let the tension out of my facial muscles and let my esthetician do her job, my damn pump is yelling at me from under the cozy warm massage blanket that is drapped over me like a mummy.  I nonchalantly slip my hand under the blanket without disrupting the ritual of my esthetician, and press ACT-ESC-ACT… did I clear the alarm?  I hope so.  I was just 100 before lying down, what is it telling me?  Low reservoir?  Low BG, high predicted?  Ugh.  And now I have to pee again (from all the water I drank beforehand).  I quietly interrupt her and run to the bathroom in my hair towel and terry cloth body wrap.

Okay, I’m back… “continue”.  Wait, there it is again, BUZZ BUZZ.  I just checked in the bathroom and it said 103?? I interrupt her again, take the gauze pads off my eyelids and physically look at the pump before clearing it again, 70 with one arrow going down, what the heck?!  Luckily, my esthetician totally gets diabetes, as her fiance is Type 1 and is on the pump.  She asks, “do you need juice?”  I tell her yes, and point her in the direction of my purse.  She gets me a juice box and puts the straw in it for me.  I drink it down, and for the next 10 minutes I continue to be interrupted by my pump that is now lagging by 20 mg/dl and telling me I am still dropping when in fact I know that the juice boxes is kicking in at that very moment.  I take big deep breaths and try to get back into my zen like state to enjoy what is left of my facial.

“Before I start the massage, do you need to pee again?” says my esthetician.  “Yes, yes I do.”

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