Shopping in a supermarket during the holidays with a friend turned into a game show. She would throw items at me and I would tell her the carbs or in some cases guess. We’d been discussing what to buy for a meal and she was asking me about what kind of ingredients I’d buy to make sure my son had the correct number of carbs.
Luckily, we were in a town far from home and had left everyone at the pool. As we skirted up and down the aisles, my friend lobbed, tossed and violently chucked various food items at me, demanding the carb value:
Her: Catch, bread one slice?
Me: Ha! 15g per slice, if not too thick! Too easy!
Me: Ouch! One cup of penne, 30g, one cup of spaghetti, 45g! Why? No carbs in air, mate!
Her: Choc bar?
Me: Ooh, now you’re talking! Flick me a Flake at a good solid 15g. Easter’s coming with Creme Eggs coming in around 30g each. What, they’ve got them already? Gimme two, quick, for the car on the way home, of course!
Me: Small fist size, 15 g per apple! Haven’t you seem me groping my way through the apples like a dirty old man?
Me: A bit like an apple but reference another body part! 15g for small!
We laughed, giggled and guffawed our way around the supermarket! Never has carb counting been so much fun! Getting back to the car, we packed the boot and jumped in. I handed my friend her Creme Egg and we sat blissfully munching. She admitted to not knowing much about carbs and I laughed and said I hadn’t either until we had to very quickly learn after diagnosis. I wrote this poem during that initial period of learning: