Cereal = Crack

This gestational diabetes crap is driving me insane. I have to eat six times a day and test my blood four times a day. I can't eat more than a small serving of carbs at each meal or I'll drive my blood glucose too high. Result: I eat tofu and dream of muffins. I eat chicken and dream of corn chips. I eat low-carb bread and dream of fruit. Who the hell dreams of fruit? I'll tell you who: people who aren't allowed to have adult-sized servings of it. Every morning I fantasize about downing a huge, icy glass of orange juice, and end up reaching, bleary-eyed, for "orange flavored" unsweetened sparkling water.

But in spite of the staggering variety of carby foods that make their way into my dreams, there's nothing I desire more than cereal.

For years I've avoided buying cereal because, if it's even the tiniest bit sweetened, I'll polish off the whole box. Who needs milk? Bah. My sugar and carb cravings are satisfied by the direct slap cereal gives my pancreas, and my OCD tendencies are satisfied by the repetitive behavioral pattern of reaching into the box for fistful after grubby fistful of sweet grainy serotonin-boosting goodness. I love the crinkly sound of the inner wrapper in the box. I love the crunch of each sparkly nugget. For me, cereal is like crack. I could simplify the whole process by holding a lighter under the spoon, caramelizing the sugar to syrup and thereby rendering it injectible, but that would rob me of the euphoria produced by a 45-minute jaw workout. And who'm I kidding? I don't even use a spoon.

Last night I had a cereal meltdown. Ignoring the little warning voice in my head, I went to the store and picked up a box of Honey Nut Cheerios. They have 23 grams of carbs/cup, about half the carb content of most other cereals. Must be the air. You'd think that "natural," unsweetened cereals would have fewer carbs, but you would be wrong. I know because I wandered up and down the aisle checking labels for a good 30 minutes. For instance, if you're watching carbs, do not under any circumstances buy Grape*Nuts. One cup of that famous farinous buckshot has almost 100 grams of carbs. They should sell it with a syringe pre-loaded with insulin. The only person who can eat Grape*Nuts with no fear whatsoever of overloading his body with glucose is Lance Armstrong, and that's only if he's planning to race within an hour of eating.

So. I brought home the box of Honey Nut Cheerios, planning -- completely pure of heart -- to have ONE CUP along with some protein for my evening snack. One cup, 23 grams. That's it. So I had my protein (some nuts), and then I ate my precious little cup, one Cheerio at a time, like a toddler. Oh, the balance of sweetness and salt and just the right amount of crunch. Oh, the joy of honey-sweetened grain! Before I knew it my bowl was empty. One more half cup couldn't hurt, could it?

Blink -- gone.

Next thing I know -- I think I blacked out -- the box was flat on the table, half empty. I'd completely done away with the bowl and was two-fisting it. When I came to, both palms were sticky and I was starting to hyperventilate from the sugar rush.

Cut to this morning: fasting blood sugar was 74, perfectly acceptable. But I hate to think what my poor body was going through in the hours following the binge. I hate to think of my little fetus swimming in sweetened amniotic fluid.

I hereby vow, publicly, not to buy cereal again.

I just have to finish off the rest of this box.