Sad, Deserted Shore, Your Fickle Friends Are Leaving

 Entry 1

WSP, Greenwich Village, 2022

175.0 lbs. Pretty happy with that. It too shall pass. My goal weight is so ridiculously low (or is that high?)--not set by me but by a chart. I will be happy when I hit 160 lbs.--my intermediary goal. 160. It will happen. I would like to be alive long enough to see my girls finish college. If I can become obsessed with this, well, there may be hope for living for another decade or so.

After two years, and sparse use, I have taken to using my treadmill to supplement my cardio rehab. It knows my name, my goals and talks to me as I work out, addressing me as Geoff which is a bit forward if you think about it. It is pseudo-AI. I can't wait until all the workout equipment, and the fridge, stove, oven, microwave, debit card and all the items in the store are all connected by AI. I can see it now. I go to open the bakery door. It is voice activated, no more nasty germ contact. I say, "Open the donut cabinet doors, pal." A voice emanating from the speaker embedded in the arm of my glasses, but coming from the bakery fixture replies, "I'm sorry Geoff, I'm afraid I can't do that." Close, but no donut.

For years I didn't eat lunch. That really changed once I started working at the City. Going to the food court at the Columbia Tower or the little store in Key Tower was too easy--even if I did try to convince myself not cheat too much, I cheated all the time. Being home during COVID didn't make it any better.

This is how fucked I am foodwise. I ate a bowl of Trader Joe cereal--cheerios like. No additional sweetener. No fruit. Just a regular serving and a bowl of milk. That was at 6 this morning. I had two sips of orange juice, maybe 2 ounces. I have had nothing  but water since, and worked out for 30 minutes. It is 1:39 and my blood sugar is 158. Anything over 120 is shit. If anything, this glucose monitor is telling me exactly how fucked I am--well and truly.

Entry 2

Abby is going with a couple of friends to the Gorge this weekend to see Boygenius, she told me after I happened to inquire about whether she was going and when it was. I made a deal with her that if she got back the $250 she spent on the TS tickets she could spend it on going to Boygenius, camping and swag. So she is going. They haven't worked out who is driving, but she is going. When I was 18, I'd be planning for alcohol and pot for such an event. She isn't interested in either, nor are her friends, so I am not stressed.

Leiney was here. She always sounds annoyed and condescending when she talks to me. I think it's being 21, I don't know. She got an electric bike last week. I felt bad that she forked out the money, given I had to spend so much on Abby's vehicles. So, I gave her a bit more than 1/2 the cost of the bike via Venmo. She didn't thank me. I don't understand.


Soon, I will be alone. I will have my freedom, whether I want it or not.

Entry 3

The reason I decided to get the continuous glucose monitor is because I was worried my A1C is too high (it has been) and I don't want to become insulin dependent. Little did I suspect that I would  have evenings like today, where my numbers are crashing and the alarm went off twice. I ate three squares of a chocolate bar and a bit of peanut butter when I saw the first 87. My numbers rapidly went down anyway, before going back up to a respectable 108. Then, a few minutes later, they started crashing again.


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