My fasting blood sugar this morning was 91. That’s not dangerous, and a lot of people would be happy with that number, but it’s the highest fasting blood sugar I’ve ever measured on myself– ten points above normal– and I was really bummed out by it.  This is because I am a total sugar fiend and I’ve been cheating. Just a little. One of the nice things about candy here is that I can buy a bite-sized, individually-wrapped piece of chocolate (4g of sugar), or a tiny package of 12 Lentejas (the local version of M&Ms, 12g sugar) for 30-60 centimos at the corner tienda, or any newspaper stand.  When I have a major chocolate jones, I don’t have to buy a whole candy bar and risk eating the whole thing just because I have it.

On the other hand, the ready availability of “safe” serving sizes means I have been indulging more often than I otherwise would. We’re not talking sugar binge here, we’re talking about a bite of chocolate once every two or three days. In theory, this is not a problem. In reality, though, every little taste of sugar just makes me want a LOT more of it. Because I’m an addict. There are support groups and rehab for people who do this with alcohol or cocaine. Not so much for sugar. Anyway, what happens is that the occasional bite of chocolate leads to a day like yesterday, where I had a bite of chocolate, a bit more fruit than I should have (spaced out to avoid angering my glucometer, but still…) and then, finding ourselves twenty minutes early for our prenatal class….  a (truly delicious!) coconut macaroon from the bakery near the casa de nacimento.

None of these things put my blood glucose into the dangerous range by themselves. Numbers are ok at one hour and two hours afterward. But through channels I wish I understood, two hours after eating is not really the end of the story. The real story is that all day, I kicked at the boundary fence just a little at a time, and then this morning, I was dismayed that it had actually moved. Stupid.