|No, I'm not pointing at my cleavage|
Last night after work I headed out for a run. When it comes to diabetes and running, I'm a minimalist. I bring glucose and that's it. Those arrows in the picture, that is my glucose. (And that is me immediately post run.) And here is my letter to the people I saw out there last night.
Hello other runners, walkers, cyclists and citizens,
First of all, take the time to look up from your cell phone when the sidewalk is narrow. I'd hate to swat that out of your hand by accident. Secondly, I realize that my shirt is probably riding up and you can see my belly and no, I'm not doing this on purpose, but it's flipping hot outside so I'm not wearing sleeves. Also, I don't look like the other runners out here, but I'm out here, so give me a break. Most importantly. STOP STARING AT MY BOOBS! They look teeny in a sports bra, so I know you're not actually staring at them. You're staring at the white thing bouncing up and down in there. Guess what! It goes with the pink thing bouncing up and down on my hip. And yes, it's making that skin even more red because I had to open it beforehand so the wrapper is jagged and irritating. But it's better than getting stuck out there low. What's low you ask? Low is when I exercise and my blood sugar goes low and I could pass out. So yea, the irritating wrapper, I'll deal with that. But keep your eyes to yourself (except for you, toddler, you were adorable, and you were just being held at that height, it's not your fault)! I would like to not take it with me, but that would be foolish and irresponsible. I went through those days and I'm not going back. I don't stare at your arms where your ipod is, or your head where your helmet is, so leave my freaking boobs alone!
Your T1 Neighborhood Runner