paula dean (m)

My Cousin Patty lives to eat.  Everything she does or talks about involves food.  She has Type II diabetes and her blood sugar level is in the stratosphere.  We're talking mid-400s.

I'm not telling tales out of school here.  She would tell you herself within five minutes of meeting you. 

Patty is on vacation in Hilton Head this week.  She is stunned to discover it's for golfers.  She doesn't play golf.  It's 59 degrees there and 50 degrees in Boston.  A long way to go for a 9-degree difference, if you ask me.

Patty: Did you hear?  Paula Dean has Type II diabetes!  That's what I have.
Me: I know, I heard.
Patty: What do you think?
Me: About what? Paula Dean? I don't care about Paula Dean (honestly, I can't stand her and her chubby hands and her trailer park cuisine).
Patty: Well, it's too bad, don't you think?

No.  I don't think.  I have always believed you have to be prepared to take the consequences of your own actions.  I have no sympathy for Paula Dean.  I don't wish her ill but I'm not surprised that a lifetime around fats and sugars resulted in an unfortunate, but manageable condition.

No.  What's too bad in my opinion is my friend, Anne, dying of liver cancer at the age of 48 after a lifetime of clean living.