Category Archives: Diabetes

Diabetes, Dominant, Kink, Sex, Submission

The Italian Stallion

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Italian Stallion

The Italian Stallion and let me assure you he is. He was my first. First from Fet and first kinky date.

The first of our encounters was a few months ago. We both knew what was going to happen if we had the chemistry of course. I walk into a local cocktail bar that I’ve only been to once so feel there is low risk of bumping into someone I know and spot him instantly. He is 37, Italian, silver haired, not hot but sexy. As we chat over high alcoholic cocktails all I notice are his hands. They’re big, manly and I cant wait to feel them on my body. We eventually get the drugs chat out the way which is always a breaker and head to his for a spliff. I have done a bump or 2 to calm me (it doesn’t at all but I have convinced myself that it does).

We sit in his cosy, modest flat, which is very close to the bar thus close to my home, and drink and smoke. As a non smoker I feel a rush of giddiness and the smile on my face more difficult to wipe. I mention something about my best asset, yes pun intended, and he starts his commands… here we go.

“Stand up and show me”

I slowly stand and he knows I am nervous. As I take a large gulp of the mid range wine in front of me. He forcefully puts my arms behind my back. “I wont tie them up this time but Don’t move them.”

“Yes Sir” I say quietly. I have lost any volume as he walks around me a glares at what is his (I make him believe at least). He suddenly puts his large hands on the top of my skirt and tight and grips hard making me bend slightly. Suddenly he pulls them down to just below my round arse.

“mmm that’s is nice” his Italian accent runs over me as his hand brushes me. The skin on skin makes me wet. SLAP! He spanks me hard and I wince but get more turned on. My hand grips my elbow as his grip my hair in a tight fist. He kisses me hard and I can taste the weed on his tongue. Pulling my head by the hair to the side, he whispers in my ear, “I love your arse. It’s mine now,”

“yes Sir” I reply as he kisses me down my neck to my small erect nipple. He squeezes the other hard and it makes my face frown with a inhalation of breath. He hits and pulls them hard. It’s a sensation I have never experienced before; It’s a pain but pleasure. I want him to stop but once he does I want more. His hand dives between my thighs. “you’re wet” He smirks, “you like the pain, you little slut” Oh god why did you stop?!

He steps back and his eyes follow my silhouette. “Take it all off”

Sobriety blasts through and I come out of character. I explain about my diabetes, the cannula and pump. I let him see the pump attached to my bra before putting the basal to 0% and unhook from my body. He is totally un phased, only checking if im ok to take it off. “You have an hour.”

And im back in character, as is he. My heart races as he walks back behind me from another toke and taking something off the kitchen wall. It’s a leather riding crop.

He strokes it across the red marks already on my skin. It connects to my skin like a branding, It stings over and over until I hear his belt un-buckle and the crop fall to the floor. He teases again, letting the cold metal sooth the tingle rushing to the surface. The leather slaps around my bruises over until I wince in bitter sweet pain. His fingers feel how wet he has made me. “You like it you little Slut”

“No, Sir” I risk with a reply.

He holds my face close to his, pushing his body into mine. He is just as excited.

“What the fuck do you mean, no?!”

“I am YOUR little slut, Sir”

He lets go of my face and smiles. He sits on the couch as he quickly joins my naked position and summons me with his big hands. They certainly match his hard cock. It’s intimidating, but I go over, concentrating on my few steps as the weed courses. I put my knees either side of his hips and slowly lower. I kiss him gently and harder as he guides my hips up and down. He is big, pleasurably big. As I put my head against his cheek I moan and lick his ear and he whispers, “You av a tight pussy, I like” He spanks me with his big hand again. Makes me ride him harder and faster until he throws me down to the floor to my knees. His breathing gets louder and my hand goes to tickle his balls and he moans loudly. He quickly finishes on my face and lets me suck the remains and I thank him.

“Good girl”

The 2 most powerful words to a submissive.

I go and wash up, put my lace underwear and pump back on and back into the open plan living area. I walk over to the wine and fill up again. I can feel his eyes admire his work and I take both glasses back over to him. We make slurring small talk as we finish the wine. I giggle and blush a lot. I take the glasses back to the kitchen and turn back at him. He is stood up and kisses me hard. “Mmmm. On your knees.” I obey. “Follow me. I crawl on my hands and knees to his bedroom, where he lifts me into his desired position on the bed. First I am face up hanging over the bed where he fucks my face and finger fucks my still wet cunt. He doesn’t touch my pump just pushes the lace to one side   I cum hard. And he pulls me back onto the bed and flips me. Face down he straddles me, strokes his work. “naughty. You didn’t ask permission to do that. Stay facing down but pull your panties as far down as you can.” His Italian accent is accentuated by either his wine or mine. (I think this may be so that I sort my pump out. I take it off but don’t bother adjusting the basal this time, so not to kill the mood totally). I wriggle the black lace to my thighs and they keep my legs together He fucks me hard from behind, with a fist full of hair and a hand wrapped around my neck. I quickly start to beg to let me cum. “Oh you want to cum again my little slut? No, not yet”

I bite and grip the pillow. His rhythm increases and he is close. “Ok, cum my little slut. Cum for your master” I do as I am told as he releases my throat. My body shakes as his does too and he collapses on top of me. His weight is warming. He slides off and to sort himself out and returns to me in a ball on the slightly wet patch underneath me, gets under the duvet and puts his arm around me to pull me in. I feel safe, but shouldn’t. I don’t know him after all.

We wake early and repeat, not quite so rough as he admires his now purplesque bruising. He his happy.

I leave with a Strong Italian coffee inside me and very painful breasts. It’s a pain that I don’t like they are so tender even a sports bra hurts. I don’t know if I will see him again…. However he is so close to my home.

Dating, Diabetes, Kink, Sex

City Rugby “Dom”

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He thinks a “Dom” is an abusive uncaring man empowering his arrogance beyond his years….. Wrong!

My god! We’d been texting (met on Fet) for a week. I got drunk on a Tuesday with an American tourist, obviously not hot because I would have fucked him.

The date was running out of steam, he was Americanly annoying, loud and some of the things said were just bit strange, even by my standards.   I even rang my best friend to save me in Chelsea but she too was drunk and bailed. He walked me to Chelsea bridge and my bus was right there.

I had been texting him a little in the day, “rugbyLad” that is and told him I’d be back in junction at 1945. I was back at 1930, just enough time for a shot, a line and a tidy up. Standing in the cold I felt the booze relax me and the drugs help my speech and awareness.

He had never been kind, always played the role – “Hard Dom” never allowed to know him. He demanded, unshaven, false tan and coming straight to mine (he lived with 4 other rugby boys – my god, I know his sort already). I was adamant about meeting in pubic for safety and said, “I cant care about a dom, unless I know him” Haha! Good Line!

Gutted by my own standards.

Was more than angry with my father from the morning before and searched to piss him off, thus hurting myself. My Dad was flippant and abrupt. Dismissing anything I said. All I could think of was, this is him letting me go for his proud son to take the reigns, God (or Allah – or whatever other religion he decides to hide behind) forbid that I (a girl) could do it. He had a meeting with someone who wanted to buy his stake in a football club which he had just disclosed was worth £8 – 10 million, immediately after me. In fact the man came over as I left, my father saying, “one in one out” and didn’t even try to introduce me. He had just told me how my sister’s fiancé was a waster and had a go that I hadn’t been more proactive in a scheme that I was living off, First I’d fucking heard that I’d have to be! I was hurt. Is he cutting ties?

The tears are missing my cheeks and pouring from my eyes as I write. He has lost care for the family that he betrayed so badly. I am lost.

I meet RugbyLad outside the station and we walk to mine. He is tall, very handsome, Very well dressed and very macunian! I express my doubt about a rugby union lad from Manchester, “more league, no?” then continue about the age gap. He is 24. “Im not young” he snaps.

He grabs me arse as we walk back and I push him off, he tries again as we enter my building and I repeat. We haven’t even kissed on the cheek. He looks annoyed and I am thankful that a girl joins us in the lift up to the 10th floor. I say he’s young and he brushes it off with a smirk and a tight squeeze the shoulder.

We barely make eye contact let alone kiss. The front door shuts, he pushes my shoulders down and I shove him off. “like that is it?” I push past and have my back to him in the kitchen. Next thing I know, coat and scarf still on , he shoves my head to the cold surface of the island and hits me. I like it. The contact races through me. There is a sting but nothing compared to what is about to happen. He pushes his body against mine and my hips rub the had surface. He seems like he knows what he is doing when he undoes my jeans and pulling them down. A soft brush followed by a hard, very hard spank with his bare hand. He continues and it stings more. My winces get louder and my hands try to prevent further. He pins them to the other side of the island. “Are you going to keep them there? For who?”

“You, Sir”

“Good slut”

He continues to spank me hard.

He starts to push what I assume is his cock against my cunt. Usually I’d be wet,   This time I am not. Not sure if it is the drugs or the fact that he has not done any ground work, not even a drink “Do you want me to go?”

“No, of course not. Why do you say that?”

He spits on my cunt and says, “because it seems like you don’t want me here”

My cunt wraps around his (average) cock and I moan – I’ve Learnt it makes them a little excited!

He fucks me hard and I love it. He pulls out and spanks me harder than before. He has something in his hand this time. “Do you deserve me? Tell me. Beg me. You want to be bruised?”

I can already feel the bruises rising to the surface. The sting. “Yes, Sir. Of course! I want you to fuck my tight cunt” I feel that please him as his breathing gets faster as he fucks me even harder. He pulls my hair as he pulls out and pushes me towards my bedroom. “I want you naked and touching yourself when I come in there.”

I quickly strip… Im still wearing my cross body bag for fuck sake! In only my bra and Insulin pump he returns as I am on my knees at the end of the bed, adjusting my pump to 0% basal to take it off.

“What the fuck is that?” He says sternly and the accent runs through me.

“insulin pump. Don’t worry im taking it off but just be careful of this” Pointing at the canella on my stomach.  “ You’re not going to fit on me, are you?” I feel like turning around and saying, “fuck off out my house you IGNORRANT FUCKWIT!”

But I don’t. Instead I sense at first a sense of fear and when he asks again? Almost a care? Haha…. Yeah right. I don’t think he’ll call again partially because of that.

I am lying face down and he jumps on top. For the first time ever someone notices my birthmark; a small dent at the top of my butt crack – think its where by “tail” used to be!

He slams his body into mine and grabs my throat. Fucking hard and fast then 2 hard thrusts as he grunts loudly, making me cum and moan. Stood at the end of my bed he pulls me by my hair towards his hard cock, shoving it down my throat. It’s the first time I’ve seen his size. As it hits the back of my throat I let him fuck it as I concentrate on my breathing (or lack of). Calm. He fucks harder and I feel the lack of air rush to my head and push him hard. He doesn’t budge holding me that split second longer. “you whore!” His hand gropes the back of my head and my throat, fucking my face again. My breathing is concentrated and calm. The drugs and alcohol kick in. He picks me up by my hair, bites and slaps my pert tits and throws me on the bed. My eyes are shut as requested as he briefly leaves the room. “on your stomach”

I do as an obedient sub does and I feel my cashmere scarf that I was wearing as he fucked me over the counter, wrap around my eyes and down my back to bind my hands. I only let him do one and he questions my trust. Breaking out of my role I say sternly “Yes” adding that I broke my shoulder so cant physically put my arm there (I can but it’s very much a trust thing).   This binding makes me think he’s done it before. It’s certainly no Shibari but it’s a good knot. He continues to fuck me as he pleases spanks me hard on the stings and reaches around to grope and whispers, “who’s great tits are these? I am pleased with how pert they are.” “Yours Sir” I respond. He spanks me hard and my winces get louder and he softly strokes his work and slaps me one more time. I yelp and my forehead wrinkles in pain.

I begin to feel like shit, emotionally. Sobering up I think. He flips me. “your pert tits deserve it next” Spits in my mouth (Ahh! Fucking disgusting prick!). I swallow. Still blindfolded, I suddenly feel something plastic make a solid slap contact with my nipple “Fuck!”

“Don’t move”

He continues and I can feel his fingers inside me getting wet. “ you like it my little whore!”

“Yes, sir”

I feel the bed dip next to me as his breathing gets louder and the tone in his voice increase. He’s nearly there. I want to suck it (my blooming sheets!) but its too late and he cums on my face and chest.

I roll onto my side and take the blindfold off. My fucking cashmere scarf is covered in fucking cum! Great! Thank you! I am in a ball on the bed and he checks if I’m ok. Only the 2nd time he’s come out of the Dom roll. After I say yes fine he asks again and I snap, “yes. It’s fine” and put my pyjamas on. He gets dressed back into his smart attire – He has a birthday drinks…. Bollocks! I had mentioned that my best friend recognised him from the gym and he asked about how I had bought him up. Having spotted him on POF I said that I was going on a date with him from that. He seemed panicked. “Tell her she got it wrong and it wasn’t me” I agree and try to reassure that I won’t share what he has just done, even though in the back of my mind I am probably going to show my bruises tomorrow…. Say part of the story anyway! He obviously doesn’t want people knowing about this side of him, but then again his face is on Fet!

He compliments my apartment and heads for the door. “don’t be pissed or upset” I smirk and shut the door in his face.

I know nothing about the manc. He certainly has issues – That’s rich coming from me I know. He was young I know, probably inexperienced (certainly compared to the Italian) and obviously got away with murder being handsome, very clever and big (in stature). He was your or my, stereotypical city rugby boy.

Doubt I’ll see him again….. Other in my bloody gym!!

Men – 2 in one night -Filling my time at least

Food – minimal

Exercise – Sexercise??

Bikram, Blood Glucose, Canella, Diabetes, Fitness, Insulin pump, Yoga

Diabetic Bikram Problems – Penny Dropped!

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So when I lost my Bikram V plates I was 18 on leaving. This is pretty standard after a gym session with the liver releasing glucose for your muscles that are screaming out for energy. Fine. However, 4 hours later I was up at 22… What the fuck?! I was thirsty, tired and my vision was a little blurred. I put it down to something to do with last day of insulin cartridge, so I changed my cannula.

But today (only blooming 6 days later) the penny dropped. I am in a room of 43 degrees and 50% humidity, of course my insulin in the cartridge is “gone off”

There is no such thing as an insulin that can’t behave identically to what the human body, normal human at least, produces.

Next session I will be leaving my pump outside in my shoes so I can continue using the same cartridge and not waste the insulin, cartridge and canella!!

Up to the minute Antics on Twitter: @blacklaced88

Bikram, Blood Glucose, Canella, Diabetes, Diet, Food, Insulin pump, Kink, Sex, Yoga

New years, New Bugger all!

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After a lovely Christmas with sea swimming, pool jumping and of course WAY too much food it was back to London. The most exercise I did was move from the sofa to the fridge and bathroom so back to London to stop eating and get my heart rate up once more!

Speaking of heart rate I haven’t had a fuck since L (a highly damaged, 33 year old, twice married man from Dubai. He doesn’t drink, smokes weed and is very dominant, but we have not fully disclosed that yet.) a week before Christmas and I am chomping at the bit!! However I did have an oral session with a local…. Who’s mother is best friends with mine, oopsy! Ha. Good practice I guess and proving that all blokes are a little different. L likes slow, deep, very deep oral while he plays with me. The other likes sucking his head while speedily stroking his shaft and tickling his balls. Each to their own, as they say and as I say’ give to get – just rude if they don’t and these 2 are!

The food has quite simply gone so way out of hand. I was on a non stop binge and avoiding blood tests!. The combination of not having enough of a break to have a true reading and avoiding seeing those double figures. My belly has returned with a vengeance (see pics). Oh and dear lord! My arms!!!! I don’t even know where to begin. And FUCK ME!! Where has my jaw line gone? More chins than a Chinese phone book. Ive turned into rolly fucking polly and it needs to change!

As soon as I arrive in London im off to do a hill spin class and then on New Years Eve I did a gruelling 90 min Bikram Yoga session before donning a glitter dress and heels. Yup that’s right I dressed up!

NYE was on a boat with 119 gays – and the bloody the best yet! Boobs were on full show and the dress was full sparkle! Even the gays loved my tits! The booze was flowing and the amount of drugs being consumed was about as subtle as a punch in the ovary – 1 guy was clinging onto a wall saying “im loving this hole!” As I looked over his partner for the night and I had the drug connection. “We all know whats going on, as long as everyone is looking out for one another”   It was only back at a house party where I shared my white stuff with my cousin and one of the biggest entertainment recruiters in the country, that I learned they were all on blooming MD! Ha. Sharing is caring…… made me question how much they loved me and my tits though. As always I wanted another place to go and ended out in bloomin Dalston (again!) with 2 that I had met just an hour earlier. Thinking they were gay I thought it was all good. Smashing the organic vodka and more lines the host retired to bed and the other invites me to cuddle on the couch. Sure he’s gay after all! WRONG!!! He started stroking and the usual brushing of the tit and kissing my head. AAAAHHHHH! I bailed so fast I got and Uber. Bank account minus £55, Brain cells minus,cant even count that far any more and dignity? Fuck lost that years ago!

My bloods this night began rather high (18.2) due to Bikram high. This was no helped later on by the fact that the boat did not stock Slimline tonic (Pfff! You’d think they would but no). So I had the 2 that were given to me and gave myself 2 bolus units and switched to the good old skinny bitch (Vodka, FRESH lime and soda – Cordial tastes like bleach!). A few hours later I was down at 7 and the “Party Basal rate” went on along with a temp basal of 0% for 2 hours. 2 hours, ½ gram and countless drinks later equalled a bg of 8. The first house party saw the pressure test…. Blood test infront of people including a doctor. Naturally I bragged about how amazing my Accu-check mobile was “it’s the best bloodtest out there and its only because of this that I do so many blood tests” and the “Meter error” appeared 4 times!!! Finally it worked and tah dah 6.6! Phew. Avoided the next day due to, well, Making up for burned calories and raised heart beats the night before!!

Still the best night of fireworks, Kylie, dancing like a tit (great tits though) and more snogs than ever, EVER!!! Why my mother question my sexuality and why im single, I’ll never know! Ha.

Bikram is getting a little better ( I dont want it to be easier) and ive found a new challenge. My hips simply don’t rotate so one new goal is to be able to do “The Tree” I cant even get my leg above my knee let alone by my hip!! But I also discovered a new problem with the pump, well the cannula. So im keeping the pump in my shoes outside the heated room of sweat, which keeps it cool so not to make the insulin null and void. Great. But with my new ability to stretch a little further on the backwards bend the stickyness of the canella (not helped with a small douse of sweat either) started to slip away from my skin. So much of the adhesive had let go an hour in I had to pull it out and thus had to run back home pretty sharpish to suppress some of the rush of sugar into my blood stream. I was 28! Bloody wonderful!

In a foul mood I have just booked 3 dates. Tomorrow’s is with an Italian kinkster. He loves spanking, whipping, master/slave and wants to here about what I was thinking about (him) the other day…. Going to read some kink to have him wrapped around my little finger in public!! The secont is a guy covered in tats from tinder. Ive told him id like to explore and push boundaries sexually – I don’t think he has any idea, really but the bruises on my arse will be a sure give away! Ha). The third and final of the week? Well….. this is going to be an extremely kinky, sordid affair. Booked into a hotel not been told where yet. Im excited!!

Food: Back to little more than normal

Exercise : Getting there but need to up to loose the gut

Men: Well, seems my Gay-dar was off and bad moods leads to book too many!!

Up to the second updates on good old twitter: Blacklaced88

Bikram, Blood Glucose, Diabetes, Fitness, Type 1 diabetes, Yoga

Was Geri Right? Bikram yoga virginity lost!

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Was Geri Right?

Friday – 12/12/14

Before I begin i am writing this on the 18th, Blogging everyday may be totally unrealistic but I will do it as much as I can, sometimes ever more than one story a day ….. For real time updates im constantly revieling probably too much on my twitter @blacklaced88 – go on, give us a follow!

So I lost my bikram yoga virginity today……. Well. Wow! It’s a 90 minute class and lets say Im still torn. Quite frankly, I think yoga, breathing in, breathing out, hmmmm, stretching blah blah is dull. Give me a spin class any day. However the heat and humidity has bought a whole new dimension. At about 60 min in I thought I was going to projectile vomit or faint. It was intense but it took a certain mental capacity to overcome it and I did.

I went into the class at 11 and worrying about the combination of a new exercise, heat and the length I ate ½ a pack of mini haribo’s. I couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing than having a hypo in public, let alone in a new class, full of new people.

While I was there I discovered I am only flexible in 1 direction and that’s bent over (quel surprise – Guess it could be practice!), the other directions I was struggling. My heart was pounding, racing and breathing hard and fast. It felt like a HIIT session and the sweat?! Holy moly! Wet. That’s the only way I can describe it. I was dripping and my towel soaked through and that was before the class had started. Within a minute of being in there, I was down to my Sports bra. I hate my jelly belly, feeling it jiggle with every step, blaming insulin sites but I couldn’t give a shit. Off my top went. I wish I could have taken my leggings off but I wouldn’t want the police called for indecent exposure or being sectioned! Ha.

On exiting I did another BG. 18!! Bloody hell. Thirsty, Thirsty, High bloods Thirsty! Put mu pump back on, Bolused and crack on with the day. The worry of going hypo is also to do with the similar symptoms of course to pushing your body and mind physically. Sweating, increased heart rate, blurred vision, shaking, headache, nausea and possibly slurring!

While in the room at 43 degrees and 50% humidity I hated it. It took a lot of mental energy to stay. But afterwards as I sat in the fresh air (still dripping) I felt exhilarated, hungry and suddenly cold! I am looking forward to the pain tomorrow. Geri Haliwell once proclaimed on her jumper that “Yoga Kills” Lets see shall we….

Diabetes, Diet, Fitness, Food, Sex

But They’re Carb Free!

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I had every intention of going to Body pump at 630 this morning. The Buzzing and sining from my phone attacks my ears as the cold nip in the air tickles my nose. Out from the cocoon I go. Bloodtest. 3.4. Great! That’s a mint whip (M&S), lowering my bolus to 0% for 1 hour and back to the warm duvet cocoon. No Body pump.

I wake up at 12 in a diabetic hangover and BG’s up at 17! Feeling groggy, podgy and the spots on my chin are rumbling, I open the fridge and see what I can snacl on. Boredom is my enemy. Yes I could and know I should find something to do, anything, even my Christmas shopping (Eugh). I don’t want to leave the house. To make me feel worse my date this evening is not replying – fucking time waster!! I would have found someone else to go out with, it is Thursday after all.

My skype chat pings – it can only be James. James…… We have never met, just cyber met through POF (I’m covering all bases – POF, Tinder, Luxy, Happn and Fet). He seemed sweet but I knew straight away he was into kink, proper kink. He’s into consentual non consent, whips, belts, choking. He’s always said that he’s going to come over and I wont have a say what he does to me. It dangerous but exciting. He asks if im horny. Well, yes. Standard. As always! “meeting you at 3” he orders. “I’m at lunch” “im coming over at 3” this goes on until I shock him. In the time ive left it I have had a random job interview over the phone, definitely was not expecting it and made me shaking like a leaf. I think I fucked it. I tell James and he says that he can bring a bottle too. Brilliant! “come over”

I give a vague address, tell him what im wearing, what I want him to do. He tells me what he will do. “Fine come over and we’ll discuss safe words and boundaries over the wine.”

“Ok….. Ah shit! My meeting’s been changed to earlier.”

“Flake”

I go to the fridge and pick some more. Pork Crackling – That’s right. The Gods that are M&S food development team have done it again (The food hall is my church). Pork Crackling sticks. They’re carb free, They’re carb free, They’re carb free! My left arm twinges if I actually think about it! Chomp through 3 of them as my phone pings again. Sam. He’s from Abu Dhabi and taking me out tomorrow evening. He claims he works in fashion and claims he wants more than a fuck…. THEN WHY ARE YOU LEADING WITH FUCKING?!!! “tantric sex” “are you horny” “do you like sex” Pahaha. Im still going on a date with him. I challenge him and he says that’s why he wants to take me out, but asking my dress size? I’m dubious. Hope he’s as hot as his pictures!!

In the mean time there are 2 more dates being set up. Both from fet. Monday’s date im nervous about seems extreme. French, 6”6 wants a Sub. I will be meeting wearing a red scarf. (by his request of course – Glad I have a selection. Vintage Liberty? Or Alexander McQueen?) Tuesday’s also wants a Sub, but seems more vanilla, until we close the doors of course! All I can hope is that my markings from the previous night don’t anger him.

Smashed a body combat class at 2030 and now here I am picking at more food, nuts and cereal, waiting for sleep to set in. With the wind whistling through the fucking broken seals and bloods still high from exercise, I’m retiring. No fucking but certainly set up for the next few days at least….

Food: Crap

Exercise: Moderate

Men: Meh…. I’m sure I wont be waiting long.

 

Give me a follow on Twitter @blacklaced88 for real time updates.

Diabetes, Fitness, Insulin pump, Type 1 diabetes, Weight, Weight loss

“POP”….. There goes my Blogging Cherry

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I have decided that I am going to do an experiment all about weight loss, food, drink and real life living.

“Just another one of those looking for attention and a little motivation to get through it” I hear you all say.

Well, yes. However I have 2 new angles to come from. Firstly I have type 1 diabetes. Had it since 1992 and am (trying) to control it with an insulin pump. Secondly, and this is the biggie…. It’s 10 days before Christmas and no I am not going to stop eating mince pies, drinking (copious amounts) or a turkey dinner or several.

SHIT!! Yes I will be taking pictures getting bigger or smaller and yes I will be brutally honest. The honesty will be EVERYTHING from drinking, fried and baked goods (mmmm Baked goods) to drug intake and fucking….. It is exercise after all.

The reason I want to do it? See if it is possible to “live” without being that wet wipe at a party drinking soda water and only having the 1 lettuce wrap. And its also a personal challenge of controlling my bloods and quite possible remembering a little more of my London nights.

My accounts are very honest and open from my drug and alcohol consumption to my sexual encounters and dates. Weighty issues also.

I will try to blog everyday.

Please be aware that this is not medical advice and is solely from my personal experience, encounters and my thoughts.

This is day one I guess….