#and i felt it when they pricked my finger when measuring my blood sugar

[dokyeomini]

adrenaline is such a weird thing man

[cozycryptidcorner]

Xorakk the Orc

This is a commission for the lovely @artofdoll​, who wanted a diabetic reader bonding with an orc during a low blood sugar episode. I hope you all enjoy! 

The mall is completely packed, but you have a list of things that you need to buy, and you are going to get through all of it, goddamnit. You weave from store to store, comparing prices, looking for coupons on saver’s websites, trying to find the best quality for the least amount of money. And yes, you’re aware that it would be easier to buy all this online, but you like to look things over in person before making any purchases. The entire morning flies by, with you walking from one end of the hulking building to the other, meandering through the shops, running a list of objects and numbers in your head.

You start feeling a tad bit dizzy, so you take a moment to sit down on a padded bench, your purchases by your feet. Since your head feels light and your fingertips are tingling, you take a minute to measure your blood sugar, just in case. Out comes the little needle from the kit in your purse, and you press it into your skin and wait for the blood to well up, swiping it across a testing strip. The results are not… great, but you’re not dying, either, so you need to gather your things up and eat something sugary.

Standing up, it turns out, is a mistake, because it makes the fizziness in your head far worse. You stumble, the edges of your vision spotting out, and your head feeling like it’s been filled with helium, light, floating. You can barely take one step before the muscles in your legs give up, so you stumble, trying to regain your footing, right into something substantially large. It takes you a minute to actually realize what had just happened, and even more for the gears in your head to process it all, too. You ran into someone, not something, the person obviously of great height, and either your vision is no longer working correctly, or this man’s skin is green.

Oh wait, the spaced-out staring probably seems extraordinarily rude.

“I’m so sorry!” Your words are slow and almost slurred, as though you’re drunk. Again, you try to stand on your own, taking a step back, but you stumble again.

The orc reaches out, catching your arm before you have the chance to fall back onto the cold stone floor. At least in this position, though, you’re capable of seeing much more than a tan-colored shirt, and even though your body is crashing like a high-speed train off a dynamited bridge, you can see that the orc has some excellent features. Square jawline with two pearly, clean tusks jutting out from his lower lip, his skin a dusty green in the soft, natural glow coming down from the skylights. His hair is up in one of those respectable man buns, not those pathetic little ponytails, but a style with actual volume to it.

“Are you alright?” He asks, his voice somehow gruff and gentle at the same time.

“Yeah, I just-” wow, has the sun always felt so… feathery? “I’m diabetic, I have low blood sugar. If I eat something with-” the room tilts slightly, but you’re able to continue your speech on muscle memory alone, “high sugar content, I should be fine.”

“I see,” the orc seems relieved that you probably aren’t committing public drunkenness, “maybe I should help you get to the food court?”

Typically, you aren’t one to accept such help from strangers, but you honestly don’t think you can walk two steps on your own, much less to the closest Dippin’ Dots stand, so you offer up a brief nod of acceptance. You had expected that he might let you brace to his side, taking a good portion of your weight off your wobbling legs, but he instead picks you up as though you’re lighter than air. You don’t even have time to feel embarrassed about it, either, because at this point you’re so desperate for the assistance that you don’t care that you’re being carried like a bride.

“Where exactly would you like to go?” He asks, looking around as he heads in the direction of the food court.

You wait for the scent of food to hit, then you turn your head in the direction of the first thing that makes your mouth water. The restaurant (if you can even call it that) looks like the only thing it sells are sugar-filled monstrosities, so you probably won’t have to eat an entire portion of what they have before everything in your body is back to normal. Without a word, you gesture in that general direction, and the orc gently sets you down in a chair right in front of it.

As you fumble for your wallet with ashen, shaky hands, the orc merely holds his hand up and offers a shake of his head. “It’s fine, my treat.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, partially relieved that you don’t have to dump out your purse on the table.

“Of course! What would you like?”

You squint over at the menu, picking something out randomly, and he goes up to the counter. It doesn’t take long for the cashier to pack up the little treat and ring him up, and soon enough, he’s returned, the small brown paper bag in hand. When he hands it to you, you’re very quick to thank him profusely, breathlessly, and almost tear open the packaging like a wild animal. Oh, the thing is so goddamn sugary that your teeth start screaming in pain the moment you bite into it, so you’re careful to only take smaller bits in your mouth.

Once it’s gone, you take a minute to like, actually thank the orc for his actions, because he went above and beyond the call of duty, especially since you’re very much a stranger that literally ran into him. “You have saved me a hospital trip, probably, anyone else probably would have called an ambulance first, rather than help me get here.”

The orc waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I helped in the way that I could, I’m sure you would do something similar if our roles were reversed.”

You imagine trying to carry his hulking body through the mall like he did to you, but the mere thought of it almost sends you into a fit of laughter. Oh, you’d do your best to help him, he’s right, but there would definitely be a difference in capabilities there. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“Xorakk.”

“Xorakk,” you repeat, running the guttural syllables over your tongue, and then offer up yours in response. “It’s nice to… er, run into you.”

He lets out a good-natured laugh. “I was nice running into you, as well.”

You still need some time for the sugar to actually go through your system, so you’re stuck here for the time being. Since Xorakk doesn’t appear to be in much of a hurry, either, and seems to be staying until you’re cleared, you try making some conversation. “Do you come around here often?”

He lets out a grunting chuckle. “Not particularly. Here for an oven in one of those department stores, but the employees need time to load everything in my truck, so I decided to get some lunch. Didn’t imagine running into someone who was only moments away from collapsing.”

“Ha, well, it’s a good thing you did.” You drum your fingers on the table. “Why do you need a new oven?”

“Some renovation work, I do remodeling old homes, flipping them over and such. There’s a good brand I like, and they sell it here.”

“Oh, you’re a contractor? That’s cool! What kind of stuff do you usually do? Just remodeling the homes?”

“Mainly, yes, sometimes my company gets other offers, too.” He launches into a lengthy explanation for what he does, how he does it, and the current project that he and his team are currently working on. You’re very glad for the conversation, you’d probably be listlessly scrolling on your phone without it, and the animated way that Xorakk speaks makes everything about thirty times more interesting than it probably is.

You barely even notice when it’s time for you to retest yourself to make sure your blood sugar is returning to normal levels, so as the conversation goes, you get out your little kit and give it another go.

“Is that how you measure the uh, glucose? In your blood?” Xorakk asks, fascinated.

“Yeah, these little paper-like strips can tell me what’s good… or not so good, I guess.” You prick your forefinger, pressing your thumb right next to the wound so blood wells up a bit faster. “If I’m feeling a bit ill, I’ll test myself to see if it’s the blood sugar or not.”

You wait for a moment, and things are looking decent. Even though you’re still a bit off, you should be able to resume your shopping within a couple of minutes. When you stand, you shake Xorakk’s hand, internally marveling at his grip. “Thank you again so much for your help.”

“You’re very welcome, I suppose that I shall see you around?”

That almost sounds like a promise, should you agree. You offer up a smile, “I sure hope so.”

[k-drabblings]

letters to you (pt. 1)

KIM TAEHYUNG (V) X READER Type | Genre: slice of life au | fluff/angst Word Count: 2410 A/N: I’m trying to keep the timeline as accurate as possible. It’s obviously been many years since their debut/predebut, and I’m not like a bts superfan or anything, so please ignore any discrepancies :)

-- 01/2013

Teeth chattering, I groggily forced myself out of bed. My dearly beloved, yet increasingly annoying, mother was shouting out my name like it was the only word in her vocabulary. "Y/N-ah! Y/N-ah! Y/N-ah!" She urged me to hurry, and I did not understand what could possibly be so important that she wake me up at seven in the morning on a Saturday.  The blankets around my body were weighing me down as I trudged down the creaky steps to see what the commotion was about. 

At her first glimpse of me, my mom motioned for me to come along faster. "Auntie Kim's son is here," she explained briefly. "Did you really not have time to make yourself a little more presentable?" That second line was hushed, the chiding meant only for my ears. 

"It's freezing," I retorted gruffly, voice still hinting at lack of sleep. 

But I had to admit I was interested. Auntie Kim's son was the talk of the town -- well, she was the one doing most of the talking. She was always so excited about telling the neighbors about his latest accomplishment: how he had passed the auditions for some company I couldn't remember the name of (it wasn't SM or YG), and then how he was working with this famous choreographer (not like anyone really knows choreographers' names off the top of their head), and of course about his up and coming debut (which was supposed to be very soon yet the date was unknown because it was some huge secret or some nonsense).

So you have to understand the disappointment I felt when I saw this regular ol' boy standing in my living room. Yeah, he was a little taller than most of the guys I knew, but I had expected him to blow me away with his presence... or at least have some muscles.

"This is Taehyung," my mom introduced. 

I bowed my head slightly before giving my own name. 

"Hey." 

His voice made my chest rumble. It was deep and strangely velvety. It would have been a lie if I said it didn't make me smile. I watched as he popped another pre-cut slice of an orange in his wide mouth. He had this unabashed way of looking straight into my eyes as he answered my mother's curious questions, and I found it hard to meet his gaze. His eyebrow was raised a little too high, giving him this real cocky look. Maybe the idea of stardom had already gotten to his head.

"Taehyung won't be here for very long..."

It was already so obvious that my mother was going to urge me to do something I did not want to do.

"And it's your winter break, so you should have some time. Why don't you show him around?"

"He's from here," I reminded. "He probably knows this place better than I do." I had only moved here about a year ago, whereas Taehyung had spent well over a decade here.

"Then I guess I can show you around," he unexpectedly butted in, shining a 100-watt smile to my easily swayed mother. She beamed right back in delight. 

So after changing into some real clothes and promising to be back for lunch, we began our tour of town. "It's fucking freezing," I muttered, breath visible in the frosty air. It had snowed the night before, and all we could see in front of us was a blanket of white. 

Taehyung chuckled. "I take it you're not a morning person." He tugged on the sleeve of my coat. "Let's go."

I didn't ask where he was taking me, more preoccupied with eluding the patches of ice that were scattered dangerously along the road. 

He didn't take me far. ... Or anywhere impressive.

I stared at his house in disappointment. "You brought me here?" 

"Like you said, it's fucking freezing." His lips curled into a huge, cheeky grin as his icy fingers fumbled with the keys to unlock the door.  His fingers were long and so goddamn beautiful. 

He let me inside first, surprisingly gentleman-like, and his eyebrow raised in curiosity as I plopped down onto the couch comfortably. "I'm here more often than you are now," I explained. This place was like my second home.

A small, throaty chuckle escaped his lips. "Makes sense."

I could almost feel the heat radiating off his shoulder as he laid back besides me and turned on the television to some random cartoon. From this angle and distance, I could see how tall his nose was, how perfect his skin was. 

"Take a picture. It lasts longer."

A hot blush crept up my cheeks. I mumbled a lame apology.

"I'll even sign it. It might be worth a fortune in the future." He winked cockily.

I couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes. "Yeah, okay."

It was weird how I had sort of expected him to be there the next morning. And he didn't disappoint.

"The blankets again," he commented amusedly. He was sitting at the kitchen table, eating some fruit my mother had prepared for him. 

"My heating pad broke. And it's fu--"

"--king freezing," we finished simultaneously.

"Language," my mother warned, reminding me of her presence.

I smiled sheepishly and was pleased to see he was doing the same. I took a seat across from him, making sure the layers were still tightly wrapped around my figure. I shuddered as I let one arm out into the cold air to grab the chopsticks.

He laughed. "You look like a fat turtle." 

I glared as I silently stole a piece of pear from his plate. 

"Don't worry. It's cute."

I could feel the blush threatening to flood my cheeks, so I quickly got up to grab a drink from the refrigerator. I could feel his eyes on me as I shakily poured the orange juice into my glass. I didn't know why I was feeling so nervous around him. I was practically a grown woman with 18 years of life experience, including dating some boys here and there. Well actually just two -- nothing serious, but it was enough so I wasn't so easily rattled by the flirting and the teasing. 

... But Taehyung still somehow rattled me.

It was in the middle of the third day with Taehyung that I found out he'd be leaving Wednesday evening. 

"Two more days," he mumbled, leaning back into the cold wooden back of the bench. "And back to the grind."

"Do you like it there?" I asked, staring out into the fields with him. "Or do you like it here?"

He smiled and chuckled, always in that throaty way that I had grown somewhat fond of. "Seoul has more things to do, I guess... Not that I have any time to do them..." He let out a deep breath, almost like a sigh. "It's definitely not as exciting as when I first got there. But I still like it." 

Then his gaze sharply turned to me, and I almost choked, my heart jumping to my throat. "But it's nice here too. Just relaxing like this, like we're doing now. Wouldn't mind staying a bit longer, really." His eyes turned into pretty little crescents as he smiled. "It's nice right?"

I nodded to answer his question and let out a long exhale myself. "So when do you think you'll be back here again?"

"Why? Miss me already?"

I rolled my eyes and gave him a square punch to his arm. "You're right next to me, you egotistical weirdo." 

His laugh brought out my own, and we sat there together in simple happiness for a little longer until the cold seeped through our bones.

I took him to see my high school later that evening, just as the sun was setting. He had only attended for a year before leaving Daegu and for some reason wanted to visit again.

"It's not locked," he said in surprise.

"We still study throughout the break," I explained. College was really the only way country kids like us escaped this tiny town. Unless you were Kim Taehyung, that is.

"But you're not studying."

I smiled sheepishly. I had fallen a few days behind thanks to him, but I didn't tell him in fear he would stop hanging out with me. After all, he was only going to be here for two more days. "I'm a genius," I joked. "I don't need to study."

He let out a sarcastic 'har har' before pulling me inside the building. His gloved hand was tightly holding mine, and I wished I could feel his palm directly against mine instead. Who cared if it was fucking freezing?

"You're going to get diabetes," I said to Taehyung as I watched him spoon five heapings of sugar into his coffee. "That's not even coffee with sugar. It's sugar mixed with a little bit of coffee."

"And when I do, you can help me prick my finger every morning to measure my blood sugar." 

The thought of seeing him every morning for the rest of my life was oddly romantic.

I watched him swirl the little spoon in his mug, and I could hear the little granules of undissolved sugar skidding along the walls of the cup. "I swear, Taehyung. You've supersaturated it."

"Don't use biology terms with me."

"It's chemistry."

"Whatever, nerd." He casually dismissed me with a wave of his hand.

"I'm not a nerd. I'm a genius, remember?"

He couldn't hold back his grin, and he tried to hide it by bringing the mug to his lips. "Yeah, okay."

It was much warmer that day, and he drove me in his mom's car to a nearby lookout area a few miles away. The winter air was refreshing rather than biting, and we drove up the mountain with the windows rolled down. My hair was a mess by the time we got to the top, and after Taehyung was done making fun of me for it, he helped me sort out my strands. His pretty fingers laced through my hair and made me shiver. 

"Cold?" He asked.

I shook my head. I couldn't tell him that he was the one who made chills run down my spine with such a simple gesture. I got more goosebumps as I felt his large hand on the small of my back, guiding me towards the edge of the cliff. 

"It's no Seoul skyline, but it has it's charm." He plopped down lazily on the gravel and patted the spot besides him. "Sit."

The ground was cold, but I didn't care. I planted my butt down and took in the view. Our humble town looked somewhat barren, but in a beautiful way. Patches of snow covered the fields here and there, and the cars looked like bursts of colors. The prettiest part was the mountains that loomed behind, kind of hazy and navy. I took a picture with my phone, but it really didn't do it justice. 

"Take a picture of us," Taehyung suggsted casually. He took the device from my hands, and I was all too aware of how our fingers momentarily brushed against each other. His long arm was extended, ready to snap a photo. "Get in closer," he scolded and pulled my far shoulder in with his free hand. 

My cheeks were redder than they should have been, and now there was solid evidence of it. 

"You've been spending a lot of time with Taehyung." My mom liked to be vocal about how she observant she was of my life. "Are you keeping up with your studies? I bet all your classmates are studying really hard."

"Well he's leaving tonight," I mumbled, trying not to let the depressing thought affect my mood too much. "I'll hit the library after he's gone."

So after getting lengthily scolded for skipping out on my studies, I had Taehyung meet me at my high school.

I was sitting in an empty classroom skimming my English textbook when I heard the door slide open. His lanky figure strode in confidently. "What's up, nerd? I thought you didn't study."

I gave him a mocking glare. "Can't wait 'til you're gone." I was lying through my teeth.

"Hah, yeah right. You're gonna miss me, right?"

I couldn't possibly answer yes when he had that cocky smirk plastered on his face. I simply rolled my eyes and let him take the seat besides mine.

He strummed his fingers against the desk boredly. "Come on; you can do that later. I'm leaving in a few hours."

He didn't have to remind me. The clock did that with every damn tick. 

It didn't take much effort for him to convince me to ditch my books. All he really had to do was tug on my sleeve a few times and off I went, following him down the hallway and out the door. It was almost pathetic how the sound of his delighted laughter made it so easy for me to forget all my responsibilities.  That fucking laughter and that beautiful fucking grin.

He was beaming at me now as he dragged me back to his place, where we had to sneak past his mother so she wouldn't tattle on me. 

There was nothing much to do in his room besides opening up his laptop and stream a movie or listen to some music and talk. He grinned. "If it's an American movie, that's sort of like studying English, right?" 

Couldn't beat that logic.

"Didn't know you were such a crybaby," he teased, as the end credits for Titanic began to roll. 

"Shut up, Taehyung," I snapped through my sniffles. 

"It's stupid. I don't get why he had to let go, honestly," he huffed. "There was plenty of room on that wooden board for both of them to get on. She was rescued like a few minutes later." 

"You're ruining the romance." 

He gave a playful shrug. "It's not really romantic. I'd be pretty fucking pissed if some chick -- who supposedly loved me -- just let me drown." He paused to turn and look directly at me. "You're not supposed to let go of someone you love that easily, you know."

My heart had never felt so weak in my life. I swallowed hard and managed a small nod.

It was only five days into knowing Taehyung, and he somehow managed to wreck me so easily.

I should have taken that as a warning.

[sonofadeanwinchester]

Someday Darling (Part Twenty-Six)

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five

Summary: Leaving LA to go to New York to spend time with your brother might just be the worst/best decision of your life.

Words: 1,902

Student!Sebastian x Reader ; Actor!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: SWEARING ; FLUFF ; PREGNANCY

A/N:  If you wanna be tagged, don’t be shy and let me know! ;)

Tags: @221bshrlocked@marvelouslyme96@shellymaesworld@titty-teetee@pawallday@chameerah@buckylicious@nerdywitch@teresaolivia20 @guera31 @i-should-probably-be-asleep-rn@lancetucker@ssweet-empowerment@ijustreallylovezebras@amandarosemire@zainab2 @jhangelface0523@care-bear-girl@parkerrpeterr@bxxbxy@winter--cearig @beccavesper @mrs-meghan-winchester@amren-tiny-ancient-one

The next day I knew that it was going to be a rough one. After Seb and my sex round, I knew I needed sleep to help me get through what was coming. I woke up later that morning to find Seb's spot cold as ice and laughter drifting from the kitchen. I scrunched my nose, in curiosity, and slipped my clothes back on. I skittered down the hall, finding Seb, Chris and Penn sitting around the table as Mikayla cooked, yet another big breakfast. Seb rose to let me sit, "Morning, mama."

I shook my head, face disgusted. "Too soon, Seb." I sucked in a breath. "Chris."

He smiled at me, his eyes warm. "Hey, doll."

I felt tears prick my eyes. "Chris, I'm so sorry."

He stood, coming to me. "Doll, no need to cry. Listen, I overreacted. I know you didn't purposely get pregnant and certainly not to hurt me. It's okay."

Tears sprung free, rolling down my cheeks. "I don't know what to do." I whispered. "What am I supposed to do?"

He pulled me into him, kissing the crown of my head. "(y/n), it's not my call to make. But first, we need to get you to a doctor."

Seb nodded behind him and smiled. "I told Chris just a few minutes ago that I made you an appointment for this morning. We're all going to go; you, me and Chris."

I snuffed and stepped away. "The three of us?"

Chris nodded, smiling. "Sebastian understands how important you are to me and was willing to let me in on this. It's at 11:30."

I looked at the clock, 10:49. "Shit, we won't make it on time if we don't leave now."

Seb nodded, "I know baby, just calm down. We were waiting for you to wake up. Chris, meet us down in the lobby will you?" Seb came to me and pushed me towards the bedroom, where magically clothes had been laid out for me at the end of the bed. "Get dressed sweetheart, meet me by the door. (y/n), I love you."

I smiled tightly, "Love you too."

I got dressed and followed Seb to the elevator, slowly making its way down to the lobby. "Chris is being way to chill about this."

Seb laced our fingers together, "'I know, babe, but don't push it. We're lucky he's holding it together as is."

We hailed a taxi and 35 minutes later, we were in the hospital waiting room. I sat between the two boys, holding Seb's hand and resting my head on Chris's arm. An older lady with black hair and mocha skin came out and called my name. She looked between the men, "Uh, who's the daddy?"

Seb stood slowly, smiling. "I am."

The nurse, probably fifty-five, looked at me and winked. "Good choice, sweetie." My face flushed a deep red and I noticed Seb was rolling his eyes. "Y'all follow me please." She stopped and looked at Chris, "Who are you here with?"

He stood, "Uh, with them. I'm the girl's ex-boyfriend."

She looked from me to him and then to Seb. "Damn girl, okay. Uh, you come with me. Son, I'm a big fan but you'll have to wait here."

He nodded and sat down. "I'll be right here, sweetheart."

Seb and I followed the nurse into a small room, gray paint on the walls, bare except for a large portrait of the statue of liberty. She sat me down on the black bench, covered in parchment paper. It crinkled under my weight and Seb sat in the chair beside me. He laced our fingers together. "It'll be okay, baby."

I nodded. The nurse informed us that the doctor will be with us shortly. She exited the room and Seb pulled me down onto his lap. I pressed my cheek to his chest, soaking in his sweet smell. He smelt like vanilla, a bit of sweet juice, the ocean and warmth. Literal warmth. "Jesus, you smell good."

He chuckled, "That's good considering I still haven't showered since our crazy sex this morning."

I scoffed, "Fuck, well, I guess sex smells good on you then." I kissed his lips and he pulled me closer. He placed a gentle hand on my back, and the other to the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair. Half way through our wicked make-out session, the door started to open and I jumped off of him and onto the table. From the look of the doctor, my hair must've been a mess because he smiled and looked down at Seb who was wiping lip gloss off his mouth.

He introduced himself, "My name is Dr. Moretz, you're (y/n)?" I nodded. He looked at Seb, "You must be the dad."

He nodded and reached his hand forward. "Sebastian."

"Nice to meet you." He gestured to me. "I'm just going to ask you a few questions and then we'll take a look." He cleared his throat. "When were you expecting your period?"

I lifted my eyebrows, "Uh, roughly ... 5 days ago."

He nodded, jotting some notes down. "How many times have you had intercourse without protection?"

I scoffed, "With him or in general?"

He smiled, "With your current partner."

"Oh, uh, I don't really know. Like, not often, maybe like 5-6 times."

He nodded. "Okay, how many time have you had intercourse, with your current partner, in general?"

I bit my lip, "Roughly 35 times in the past two months."

Sebastian scoffed beside me and ran his hand through his hair. He raised his hand. "Doc, I have a question. Uh, is there any restrictions she's suppose to be on, sex wise?"

He smiled, "Actually no. Your baby is well protected in your uterus by the amniotic fluid that surrounds it.. So intercourse will do no harm." He looked back at me. "What kind of symptoms have you had?"

"Uh, my breasts hurt, I'm tired all the time. I pee more than I drink, I was sick quite a bit, not throwing up as much now, my mood and hormones are all over the place, and headaches." I rubbed my temples, out of habit.

Dr. Moretz smiled and wrote something else down. "Okay, I'll get your weight now, to measure the baby's growth. Just step over onto this scale, please." I stepped on it, he smiled and wrote it down. "Perfectly healthy for a girl your height. Thank you."

I sat back down and Seb was standing now, rubbing my back gently. "You okay?"

I nodded, "Yeah, fine baby, uh, my back is hurting that's all."

The doctor stood, twisting a blood pressure wrap around my arm. "Stay still please." He pumped a few times, and I held my breath. He smiled, "Pressure is perfectly normal for a woman at your stage of pregnancy, 120/80, lovely." He jotted it down and sat back into the swivel chair. "Okay, next let's discuss your diet. What have you been eating?"

Sebastian scoffed, "She's been eating like 3 day old Thai food, hamburgers, hot dogs, crap ton of ice cream. I tried making vegetables one night but she didn't touch them."

The doctor smiled, lips tight. "Okay, well first of all, all that has to stop, mostly. For the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, we recommend that you take folic acid at 5mg everyday. You can find this in some food as well, like, spinach, radish, coriander, mint and lettuce. Uh, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, beans, peas, corn, cabbage. Some fruits include avocado, pomegranate, oranges, strawberries. Nuts are good too; peanuts, walnuts, and almonds. Some drinks, obviously water, recommended at 12 glasses a day but if you don't feel like that, coconut water, skimmed milk, banana shakes. They are all good for you.  Also, let's discuss some blood tests that you'll need to get done. I have written them down for you." He handed Sebastian a piece of paper. "We'll check your blood type, iron levels, Rhesus factor, blood sugar. Also for hepatitis B, HIV/AIDS and syphilis. We'll screen for thyroid problems, rubella known as German measles. We'll screen for abnormalities, check for CMV, hepatitis C, HSV, Toxoplasmosis."

I looked at him in horror. "That's a lot of stuff."

"Yes, it is but we want to make sure your baby is healthy as a horse. Any questions?"

"Uh, yeah, what position should I be sleeping in?"

He chuckled, "Anything is fine, just as long as you're comfortable." He sighed, "Uh, now we'll just have to pick a date for you're ultrasound."

Sebastian shook his head, "We are wide open, I can study from home and take classes online. What do you have free Doc?"

He nodded, "How about July 21? That's 3 weeks from now." Seb nodded. "Perfect. Uh, between now and then, if you want to make appointments for those screening test, that would be helpful." He scribbled on his notepad. "This is your prescription for prenatal pills and folic acid. Now, I'll check your uterus and see where the baby's at."

He laid me down on my back, asking Sebastian to have a seat. He pulled on white rubber gloves and spread my legs. I felt his fingers trail up inside of me and move around slightly. He pulled out and removed the gloves. "Everything feels fine, you baby is about the size of a raspberry right now. If you experience any discomfort or are concerned about anything at all, we have a 24/7 helpline, feel free to call." He sat me up and scribbled again on the notepad. "You're both free to go." He exited the room.

Seb helped me off the bench and out into the waiting room. Chris was sitting there, talking to a young lady. He caught sight of me and excused himself. She looked disgusted but stomped off back towards her, I suspect, baby daddy. He hugged me, "What's the news?"

Sebastian smiled, "Everything is good, baby is healthy. Ultrasound is July 21, gonna check for the gender." He smiled. "I'll be right back, need to make appointments for all this blood test shit." He kissed my lips quickly.

Chris rocked on his heels, ducking his head to meet my eyes. "I won't be here for that."

I nodded, "I know."

"I'm still going back.. Back to California."

I sniffed, "Chris, I know."

He bit his lip, "You make a decision?"

I shot my head back, "You fucking serious? Chris! I'm fucking knocked up with my boyfriend's baby and you're asking me to run away with you? What the actual hell man?" I stepped away from him. I must have yelled a tiny bit because people were staring at us now, including Sebastian.

One girl leaned into her mother, "That's Chris Evans. Like the actor. Who's that girl with him?"

I looked her dead in the eye, "Sweetheart, if you're going to whisper, make sure it's a fucking whisper. I’m his ex-girlfriend.."

Sebastian was over to us now, "Uh, guys, everything okay?"

I shook my head, "Not really, Seb. Chris just asked me if I would run away with him back to fucking California with your baby inside of me." I stepped away, walking towards the exit.

When I turned around to yell at Seb to follow me, all I saw was his fist connecting with Chris's face, knocking him out cold. "Fuck you, Chris Evans."

[lonelypond]

Casual Lunacy, Chapter 11

A/N: Ok, my apologies in advance, we have only reached level: en route to the party, but I hope you have forgiven me a little by the time you reach the end of this chunk. It's a nice pause point and I feared some readers might implode if I delayed the chapter past the week point. I will try to get the next chunk finished as soon as possible.

Playlist here: Thanks for the suggestions.

Love Live, NicoMaki, 2K, 11/?, Drumroll please ; ) 

SHOT RIGHT THROUGH

What to do about Nico? First, don’t lie. Maki picked up her phone and texted.

M: Hi, Nico! Thanks for last night.

N:Σ(゜゜)

N: Oh, Princess (✿ヘᴥヘ) She wasn’t a problem. I just worry about her.

Maki hesitated but then just fast typed and hit send.

M: I want to talk to you about something. Can we walk to the party together?

N: Sure. Nico has to work and then shower, but stop by my apartment at 9 and we can head over. I’ll text you the address ٩(θ‿θ)۶

M: See you then.

Odd message, Nico thought as she put her phone back in her coat pocket, but Maki was a bit odd anyway. But cute. With the eyes. And the legs. And the mischievous, tooth biting into the underlip grin. Nico hoped it was a cute thing Maki wanted to talk about, like an invitation to dinner or something. Nico had no time, but she might work out something, if Maki asked nicely.  

Maki had stepped carefully around her mother all morning and texted a sincere “Sorry” to Rin and Hanayo. She’d spent most of the afternoon in her treehouse, rehearsing things she could say to Nico, imagining things Nico might say to her. None of them seemed right, all of them gave her a twitch. Running off some stress was the only part of the day that her mind felt clear, although she was careful to do it in human form and found herself missing Rin’s cheerfully optimistic company. But Rin would just say blurt it out and Maki knew she couldn’t. When the sun finally started to set, Maki swung down from the platform and went inside to shower. Her mother had gone out, her father was sitting, relaxed on the sectional, watching a documentary.

“Hi, Papa.”

“Hi, Maki.” Her father turned off the television and turned around to look at Maki, “How are you?”

Maki shrugged.

“Poetry not helping?” Dr. Nishikino chuckled; Maki flushed. “Your mother liked Nico.”

Maki shrugged again, still blushing a little, slouched, hands in the pocket of her hoodie.

“Maki, talk to me.” Her father leaned on his arm, worry lining his face.

Maki frowned, then climbed over to another leg of the sectional, “What did you say?”

Her father chuckled again, “When you meet my mother, she might bite you.”

Maki stared at him, sure it was a joke. “Really, Papa?”

Now her father shrugged, his expression playful.  “I loved your mother’s sense of humor. I thought it might help to appeal to it.”

Maki laid down, staring at the ceiling, grudgingly admitting, “I don’t know that much about Nico.”

“You like her, right? And she likes you. That’s a good start, even if you don’t have something in common like a class.” Maki heard her father shift his position.

“She likes music. We talked about Cole Porter.” Suddenly Nico’s voice singing filled her head “I get a kick every time I see you, Standing there before me, I get a kick though it's clear to see, You obviously don't adore me.” What would it be like to tell Nico and see fear in her bright crimson eyes instead of warmth, to smell dismissal instead of welcome.  Whatever Nico’s initial reaction was, Maki would know immediately. And that terrified her.

“Remember: ‘Faint heart never won fair lady’.” Dr. Nishikino tapped his daughter’s knee.

“Huh?” Maki glanced up at her father, confused.

He leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Gilbert and Sullivan, Iolanthe. “Faint heart never won fair lady”. Fortes fortuna adiuvat.”

Fortune favors the strong. Maki needed to be strong enough to look Nico in the eye and say “I’m a…” She couldn’t even finish the thought in her head and leapt up, “I have to shower.”

“Your mother wants you home by 1.” Her father relaxed again, his eyes sympathetic, “If you need a ride or a little more time, text me.”

“I will.”

Maki had left herself most of the evening for choosing an outfit. She heard her mother and father talking when she stopped in the kitchen to eat a quick dinner warmed up in the microwave and wished she could have just run down to Cup o’ for a sandwich made by Nico. And a smile. Mostly a smile. She turned up her speakers and let Sugar for Sugar’s ‘Bizarre Love Triangle’ cover blast.

Every time I see you falling I get down on my knees and pray Waiting for that final moment You say the words that I can’t say

Right. Grey cashmere t-shirt, Black blazer with jagged white stripes across the back and black pants tucked into kicky boots. Maki grabbed a slouched fedora and a beret to compare the two, but opted instead for a gray and white NU wool bobble hat to pull over her hair, which wouldn’t maintain its shape anyway. It was like her nerves were deciding to rearrange the follicles every two minutes. She hoped her nerves wouldn’t decide on their own to rearrange her ears. Then she bounded downstairs, stopping by the table in the foyer where a fresh array of flowers always greeted visitors. That’s where her mother ambushed her.

“Maki.”

“Mama.”

Another staring contest and then the older woman smiled at her daughter, grabbing her for a quick hug. “Have a good time.”

“Thanks Mama.” Maki felt her heart pounding in her chest. This was really going to happen. She was going to be strong, no matter how much her head was spinning with fear and want. Everything would change after tonight. Nico would…well, that Maki couldn’t know, so she plucked the freshest rose out of the vase and ventured out, howling bravely into the night as she closed the door behind her. She smiled when she heard Rin’s encouraging response echo. Her boots made no noise in the new snowfall and the moon glittered brightly at her, winking from its perch above the trees as her pace increased.

Nico had neatened up the kitchen, showered, eaten a small dinner, and was now fixing her makeup. Kotori and Honoka’s place was too close to drive to, parking would be a nightmare, but that left the shoe problem. Boots obviously, there’d been snow, but Nico’s purse was too small to stash heels in, she’d have to settle for ballet flats, unless Kotori had something near her size. Purse and parka at hand, she was ready for her escort.

A knock. Polite. Maki on the doorstep, no coat, of course, just a modish blazer, blocked out in black and white with a knit grey t-shirt underneath it and black pants dusted with snow above the bootline. A nice match, colorwise, for Nico’s most stylish of little black dresses. A good omen for the night, Nico thought cheerfully as she greeted Maki with a wave. Maki’s face was reddened from cold and wind. She entered at Nico’s invite, pulling the hat off her head, her hair falling in front of her eyes.

“Hi, Nico.” Maki’s eyes were hidden behind her red hair, but the smile was adorably nervous, the voice beguiling and Nico felt herself pull in air nervously as her chest contracted.

“You look nice, Maki.” Nico watched as Maki pulled something from behind her back, a nearly budded red rose, holding it out in front of her.

“You look amazing. Thanks for letting me walk you to the party.” Maki’s voice was soft, shy.

Nico took the rose, glanced at it for a moment, then broke off the stem, reached a hand out to Maki’s lapel, slowly searching along its length for a buttonhole, and sliding the rose in carefully when her fingers found one.

In the dim light of her foyer, across every spectrum, Nico glowed. Maki raised a hand to stroke Nico’s, shock in her lavender eyes from what Nico could see of them. Nico wanted a closer look so she reached out, sweeping the hair back from Maki’s temple to her ear, sliding her fingers through silky hair, breath catching, feeling Maki lean into her touch, a soft hum vibrating through the redhead, the lavender eyes luminous and unfocused.

Maki couldn’t help it. It felt SO good after all the worry. Nico’s touch was a familiar comfort by now in her wolf form and to feel Nico’s hand brush tingles across her skin and through her hair in this form was too much. With every breath, Nico’s essence became sharper, stronger, more magical, cocooning her and Maki felt herself measuring the new sensations bolting through her body with each heartbeat, pulsing with each surge of blood and breath, pressing her Nico-ward. Then Nico stopped, her hand frozen, breath released in a shocked gasp, fingertips hovering over Maki’s ear. Maki woke up from her dream to find crimson eyes wide with shock, disbelief, awareness. Nico stepped back, almost tripping, confused, heart racing almost as madly as Maki’s. She knew. Maki read it everywhere, instantly, in Nico’s touch before she broke away, in her eyes, in the way her heart skipped, her body withdrew. Nico knew. And it was over.

“Nico, I can ex…”

Nico flipped her hand up, palm out, lips tight, words hissed through, sputtering while Maki cringed, “Princess?!!?” Then Nico’s voice revved near its volume max, her face darkened by anger, betrayal. “Everyone else knew, didn’t they, Maki? Rin, Hanayo, your mother…” Nico laughed, her voice quieter but colder, ”of course, they did. Nico’s the only idiot. Worried about a ‘dog’.”

“N…no Nico, you’re not an...they…”So many emotions coming from Nico, a confusing wave of sensation Maki couldn’t buffer.

“Everyone else knew. Everyone except Nico. Stupid Nico. Nico, who everyone’s laughing at…” Nico grumbled, arms crossed over her chest, face scrunched in an effort to contain her emotions.

Maki stretched to touch Nico, but Nico turned away. Maki thought she saw tears. Oh gods, this mess was worse than fear. Panic was close to triggering the transformation, but Maki flattened her hands against her thighs, counting her breaths, inhaling deeply, trying to calm every flight/fight instinct pricking at her.

“No, Nico it wasn’t like that. You’re great. No one laughed. They were all too busy yelling at me.” Maki realized she spoke a little too loudly when her words echoed in the foyer. “I’m sorry.” she whispered.

Nico shot a look of contempt at over her shoulder.

“Let me explain…” Maki felt her ears flatten as Nico stomped past her, the wolf starting to fill in her senses, panic ebbing, boldness surging.

“Nico can’t be late. People are expecting a performance.” Nico zipped up her coat and turned, hands on her hips, eyes red tides of turmoil. Maki started to respond, stepping forward, but then Nico snapped “Heel,” disdain and disappointment rip currents in her voice.

Maki fell back, startled at the bitter splash of Nico’s command, head hanging down, sullen, dread oozing everywhere.

“Nico doesn’t have time for this. I have an audience waiting, friends to see, people to entertain.” Nico chirped, in a forced, bright tone, her eyes a blazing storm. “Nico is going to be the hit of the party.”  Then Nico’s voice lowered, sharpened, edged with an emotion Maki couldn’t classify, one that demanded she yield. “You WILL talk later.”

Maki gulped, following behind Nico as she stepped outside. Even without a tail, Maki’s posture screamed defeat. The wall of Nico’s embarrassment and bewilderment buzzed between them, anger the most minor theme. How to break through that? Maki started to howl, but froze in fear when Nico spun quickly, arms crossed, lips set in a critical sneer.

“No howls, no tail, no running off. Nico decides what happens next. And when." Pause. Breath. "Do not mention ANY of this at the party.”

Maki nodded, then remembered, “I have to be home by 1 a.m.”

Nico snorted, “Isn’t it usually midnight?”

Maki tilted her head, confused, but Nico ignored her, heading once again toward the party, grumbling as she stamped her feet through the snow, “cold...doesn’t even get jokes...what is Nico supposed to…but cute...damn pouty puppy eyes...uugghhh...Nico doesn't have time...”

Somewhere in the torrent of Nico’s grumbles, Maki heard a chance.

[samiinkinen]

Optimizing Cycling Stage Race Performance using Nutritional Ketosis

There’s very little published material -- and no peer-reviewed scientific publications that I’m aware of -- about multi-day stage race performance under nutritional ketosis, which I thought could be a performance maximizing tool when rapid recovery and ability to keep going are essential.

I raced an 8-day Mountain Biking stage race, riding a total of more than 40 hours, almost 400 miles and climbing more than 50,000 vertical feet in those eight consecutive days. Here’s what I learned through this N=1 person and N=8 day experience.

Goals

Going into the stage race, I was simply trying to optimize the following:

Rapid recovery given the back to back racing days

Overall race performance each day

The challenges that I knew I’d have to overcome:

Sleep (=performance enhancer #1) would be difficult in tent camps

Potential GI distress with 6+ hours of racing per day in African heat, so I’d want to avoid eating large quantities while racing

Despite super long days, mountain biking requires frequent, all-out an-aerobic efforts, where one can’t be grinding in “fat burning zone”

Approach

I had already trained my body to utilize fat as the primary energy source even at higher intensities and I knew from our Pacific rowing adventure that it’d be possible to keep exercising 10+ hours a day while limiting inflammation, recovering fast and getting quality sleep even in questionable conditions. So I hypothesized I would maximize my performance if I could stay in nutritional ketosis, while loading up my glycogen stores and doing race-time feeding with limited carbohydrates to be able to “attack” on all those technical hills where an-aerobic efforts would be impossible to avoid. In other words, my goal was to rely primarily on fat utilization for energy (fuel that is practically unlimited), yet be able to perform an-aerobic efforts that are almost exclusively fueled by glucose and/or stored glycogen.

Data

Below tables detail most of the key markers I tracked during each race day.

I measured my state of “nutritional ketosis” by doing a finger-prick blood test first thing every morning to get an accurate measure of BOHB concentrations (mmol/L). Concentrations above 0.5 mmol/L are generally considered to be in the range for “nutritional ketosis”.

The “Post Race (g)” carbohydrate intake includes all the carbohydrates between finishing the race and going to bed. However, I consumed about 90-95% of them immediately after each race day around 2PM.

Since I didn’t have a power-meter in my mountain-bike, the only objective performance measure was heart rate, perceived effort/feel and how I did against the rest of the field. I was racing with a partner, who had to drop out after day three. After that I was able to race consistently at my own pace, averaging around 130bpm for each of the days, which corresponds to 300 Watts on a power-metered bike for me (160bpm is about 400 Watts). I finished every stage very strong, except the last day. That was due to a pretty bad stomach bug that I got after the second to last day, after which I spent the entire night in bathroom. (Sidenote: I attribute the stomach issues to the 1,200+ racers living, eating and washing in a tent camp setting for 8 days -- not to my own decisions or dietary choices)

Observations

These are my N=1 observations based on very limited data and specific to my own biology, so take them with a grain of salt:

Performance: I slept well, recovered well and felt fantastic every day, except the very last day after my stomach bug. I could visibly pick up riders in the last quarter of each day’s stage. I didn’t observe any “lack of top end” and was able to attack on all the steep hills. Based on my average HR, my effort corresponded to about 300 Watts average over the 4-6hour stage each day.

Would it optimize performance to eat nothing during race: I was primarily utilizing fat for fuel, so I could finish the 7-hour stage #2 with zero food other than water. But it was (anecdotally) clear that by feeding just ~100kcal/carbs per racing hour was much better than nothing. My perceived effort was lower and I was able to ride a bit harder.

How many carbs could I eat to stay in ketosis: My BOHB values were all above 1.0mmol/L (generally above 0.5mmol/L is considered “nutritional ketosis”) with up to 200grams of carbohydrates ingested in one sitting right after the stage. Adding up the nutrition during the race, I consumed 300grams of more of carbohydrates per day, yet was in ketosis each morning when waking up. This is obviously highly dependent on the amount of exercise and carb oxidization during the race. Yet, it was surprising that I was able to fill up the muscle glycogen tanks after each race day, yet keep burning fat for primary fuel. 

Are those 100-150grams of carbs needed right after each stage: I don’t have a definite answer how else to restore glycogen levels for a back to back 2-6hour all out effort the next day. That amount seemed to be enough for me and I felt ready to go as hard as needed the following day. Based on this experience, I’d say it seems to help.

What would I change: The test worked out very well. I was especially impressed by how quickly I recovered between stages, considering that my training only included up to two 3+ hour rides per week. It’d be interesting to test what happens to the following day’s performance if one completely eliminates the post-stage carbohydrates. 

What exactly did I eat?

My daily routine was almost exactly the same every day:

Breakfast: Scrambled eggs, sausage, coffee with coconut cream and generously butter and lots of table salt (actual picture above).

Race feeding: UCAN Superstarch and food from aid stations included cashew nuts and honey-nut bars. (actual carbohydrate amounts in the table above). Sodium I carried separately.

Post race: Immediately after finishing each stage, I ate real food and about ~140 grams of carbohydrates from cooked rice or banana.

Pre-dinner snacks: Unsweetened beef jerky and macadamia nuts.

Dinner: Massive green leafy salad with fatty protein source (chicken / beef / fish) and very generously butter, oily dressing and table salt.

I did not use any vitamin/nutrition supplements or pain killers, except additional magnesium tablets after each day’s race.

Do I think this tested approach to a stage race nutrition was better than the perhaps traditional “sugar-coated” version of eating 300-400kcal/glucose per race hour and carb-loading 1500kcal-2000kcal of glucose at the end of each day to fully fill up the glycogen stores? For me, yes, but it is impossible to draw conclusions for others. 

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

3 Critical Food Label Elements Every Diabetic Should Understand

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/healthy-tips/3-critical-food-label-elements-every-diabetic-should-understand/

3 Critical Food Label Elements Every Diabetic Should Understand

I recently encountered a diabetic who did not understand how to read food labels to figure out if a given food would be okay to eat. He didn’t understand how to calculate net carbs on the food label. Or that sugar is a type of carb and needs to be included in that total, not counted separately. And he didn’t know anything about the effect of fiber on carb count.

This was surprising to me until I remembered that I didn’t know any of this when I was first diagnosed, either.

“I Don’t Really Know How to Read the Label…”

“The mangoes are three for a dollar today. You should take some home!” he said. I admired his mangoes for a moment, but then reined in the longings. I love mango, but it’s got a really high glycemic index rating.

“I can’t. I’d love to, but I can’t,” I started.

“Sure, you can! Treat yourself!” He was good, but I resisted.

“No, I can’t. We’re diabetic and those are very bad for us,” I responded firmly, including my husband in my statement with a nod in his direction, then began to move on to the vegetable side of this booth.

“Oh! I’m diabetic, too!” the vendor said enthusiastically, immediately forgetting that he’d just lost that sale. “My doctor said I had to get my numbers down. I had a heart transplant a few years ago and now my doctor is upset that I might let diabetes kill me.”

I was astonished, and chose to engage with him. Here was a teachable moment. I mostly don’t feel like an expert in this field, I’m just another diabetic continuously struggling to keep on top of this disease, but I quickly remembered that an expert is just someone who knows a little more than someone else about a given topic.

I didn’t even need to prod him. Just giving him my full attention for a moment encouraged him to continue. Obviously, he needed this connection.

“Yeah, my numbers are in the low 200s. What were yours this morning?” he asked my husband.

“I was at 111 this morning,” Steve answered.

“Wow, that’s a great number. I wish I could get there.” He seemed stunned at the possibility that a diabetic could actually achieve normal blood sugar readings.

“We limit our fruits and other carbs to reach those numbers,” I said.

“Oh, I limit my sugar, but I like fruit,” he responded.

“Fruit has sugar, and sugar is not all you have to watch. You’ve got to limit your total carbs.” Thankfully, Steve and I were his only customers at the moment, so we had an uninterrupted moment to have this conversation. “Sugar is just one type of carbohydrate,” I continued.

“I don’t really know how to read the label,” he mumbled, seeming to deflate a bit.

“All you need to know to get started is the number of carbohydrates minus the number of fiber – that will give you the amount of carbs that will affect your blood sugar,” I explained.

“So, I add that number to the amount of sugar?”

“No, you don’t even need to worry about the sugar number. The amount of sugar is included in the number of carbs, so just look at that and then subtract the amount of fiber from the carbohydrates. This is because the fiber helps your body process the carbs more slowly, which means your blood sugar doesn’t go as high.” He seemed to be getting it, but I explained this a couple more times, trying to do so with different words each time, until he seemed to really understand.

“The other thing to realize is that so many things have carbs, not just desserts and candy. Try to stay away from white foods, like white potatoes, white rice, white flour, and white sugar,” I told him.

“Okay, that could be hard. I like potatoes!”

“You can do sweet potatoes. Those aren’t as bad for us as white potatoes,” I suggested.

He nodded thoughtfully, then said, “Hey, maybe you’ll come back next week and I can ask you more questions!”

Steve handed him one of my cards at this point and told him about this blog, suggesting that he check out what I’m doing here.

Diabetes Education Is Sorely Lacking for Those Newly Diagnosed

It’s such a shame that so little diabetes education is done by the nurses and doctors who make these diagnoses. They don’t seem to get how little people understand about their own diet, how to read nutritional labels, and everything else that goes into better managing a diabetic life.

I remember when I was first diagnosed, the doctor suggested I make an appointment with a diabetes educator, but other than that, I think he told me I’d need to change my diet and start exercising. “Oh, and take these pills,” he said as he wrote the prescription for Metformin.

I was so stunned by this diagnosis, I couldn’t even think of what questions to ask. I had come in for a chronic yeast infection. I’d been repeatedly treating this itchy annoyance for almost a year, and finally, I decided to ask the doctor how to get rid of it for good. The doctor asked if I was diabetic, and I said, “No.”

It surprised me that he’d even ask, because at the time I didn’t really understand that yeast thrives on sugar and if my blood sugar is high, it shows up in the urine…thus feeding the yeast and resulting in the unbearable itchiness that a yeast overgrowth creates.

He asked if he could prick my finger and immediately announced, “Yup, I think you’re diabetic!”

“Well, I just had a Big Mac, fries, and a Coke for lunch, that’s probably why my numbers are high,” I explained, not wanting to accept what the doctor and his nurse were telling me. I knew my father was diabetic and my mother’s mother was diabetic, but surely, I had a few more years before I’d have to worry about that. I was only in my mid-30’s, after all.

“We’d like to conduct another test, called an HbA1C to confirm. This will show how high your sugars have been for the last three months.” Sure enough, that test confirmed the finger prick. I was diabetic. This is when they gave me a prescription for Metformin and scheduled my next appointment.

How to Read the Nutritional Label: The Basics for Diabetics

If you’ve ever felt confused and annoyed by nutritional labels, you’re not alone. There’s so much info on there, and it’s not always easy to decipher. And then, just when you think you’ve got it figured out, companies change how they list things.

#1: Total Carbohydrates

The most important thing, initially, for diabetics to decipher on the nutritional label is the carbohydrates. When you look at a label, find the number of carbohydrates. It’s usually listed as “Total Carb” or “Total Carbohydrate.” There will be a number of grams (”g”) and a percentage to the far right. For now, just ignore the percentage number and focus on the number of grams.

#2: Fiber and Net Carbs

Now, under “Total Carbohydrate,” you’ll see a couple things listed that are indented under the total carbs: “Dietary Fiber” and “Sugars.” There may also be something here called “Sugar Alcohols,” but we’ll talk more about those another time. Fiber is actually a type of carbohydrate that is not digested by our bodies. Since it’s not digested, it doesn’t affect our blood sugars and so can be subtracted from the total number of carbs. What’s left is what will affect your blood sugar. This is called the “net carbs.”

Everyone will have a different net carb value to shoot for per meal and/or per day. Some follow the American Diabetes Association’s recommendations to stay around 45-60 grams per meal. Some people swear by the diets that allow 20 grams or less per day. This is why the percentage number on the label is meaningless to diabetics and other low-carbers. That figure reflects the percentage of carbs a normal, healthy person on a 2,000 calorie per day diet should eat.

Sugars Are Included

There was another listing under carbs, called “Sugars.” This would refer to simple, unrefined sugars, such as the white, granular stuff commonly called “table suger.” It also includes any other simple sugars, such as fructose found in fruit. Both the sugars that are naturally occurring in the food and any added sugars are included in this number.

The number of sugars are already included in the “Total Carbohydrate” figure, so you don’t need to count them separately. As diabetics, we are aiming to keep our total carbs down, not just the number of simple sugars.

#3: Serving Size

The other very important piece of the label to learn about in this basic guide to nutritional labels is the “serving size.” You’ll find this right under the words “Nutrition Facts” at the very top of the label. The serving size will often be listed in a couple different ways, such as “1/2 cup (37g).” It might appear as a single term, such as “one package” or “one can.” The number of “Total Carbohydrate” refers to how many carbs are in a single serving, not how many carbs are in the entire package (unless the serving size is “one package”).

Often the serving size will seem like a much smaller portion than you think is reasonable. It takes actually measuring out your portions to learn to recognize (and reprogram your thinking) a “reasonable” portion. Try this experiment: take your favorite snack and put on a plate or a bowl what you think a single serving should be. Then check the package for the serving size and pull out your measuring spoons or cups. Will the amount you’ve already portioned out fit in the appropriate measuring device? Does it overflow?

Now you have a better sense of how much an actual serving size is for this particular food, and when you go to the nutrition label, you’ll be getting the facts that match that amount.

An easy way to reduce your carb intake without changing much else about your diet is to simply reduce the recommended serving size. Conversely, it’s also really easy to wind up eating too many carbs, even when you think you’re doing well by eating low-carb foods, because you’re actually eating more than one serving at a time.

3 Critical Elements of Food Labels for Diabetics to Understand

So, there you have it — the three most critical parts of the food label for diabetics and other low-carbers are:

Total Carbohydrates

Fiber

Serving Size

There are other important elements of the nutrition label to learn eventually, but this will get you started down your low-carb, diabetic-friendly journey.

Photo Credit: Rebecca Dugas and Adobe Stock Photos

Diabetes Type 2 Tips Diabetes Escape Plan Does Diabetes Destroyer Really Work? Original Article