[HUMOR]
It was New Year’s Eve, the first New Year’s Eve since I’d been diagnosed with diabetes, and I was invited to a dinner party. I’d avoided such wing-dings since my diagnosis the summer before because I hadn’t yet learned how to deal with the limitations of my diabetic diet at dinner parties hosted by people who didn’t spend every minute of their leisure time boning up on the carb counts of pheasant tetrazini with goat cheese, and crème brulee with durian fruit sauce.
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