Note: if you have a bag of biscuits that you know are partly chocolatey, do not leave them in your bedroom in the middle of a heatwave. *looks at fingers*

For all El Mog is the one with diabetes, I’ve always had an interesting relationship with my own blood sugar. In that it seems to fall bloody quickly – often after accidentally skipping dinner due to alcohol (whoops) but sometimes for no apparent reason at all. And particularly in hot weather when I don’t really fancy eating sandwiches with lots of nice carbohydrate in them; I want to eat refreshing salads but the lovely vitamins and water content and fructose isn’t enough for my stupid body. It starts to shake, the first signs of the imminent falling over if I don’t get some refined sugar down me, STAT. Hence the big bag of biscuits. (Mmm, a cinnamon one.) It’s actually frighteningly easy for me to go into ketosis, or a ketosis-like state, which anyone who ever read anything about the Atkins diet will know was once touted around as a good thing. They are morons. It’s horrible. And I’m still having to eat vats of pasta even though it’s freaking boiling outside.


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