It’s a picnic.  I’m wearing a maxi dress with pockets and my infusion set is on my arm, the tubing snaking discreetly into the body of the dress, disappearing.

“Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too!”

I don’t know everyone but that’s okay; kids are running everywhere, it’s a beautiful day, sunshine like whoa.

“Do you mind if I ask … what is that plastic thing on your arm?”

“No, you can ask.  I wear an insulin pump.  That’s the spot where the pump connects to my body.  I was diagnosed with diabetes when I was seven.”

Slow nod.

Someone runs through the kitchen to grab a hot dog.

“Oh!  I thought it was a port, like the port for a blow up doll or something.”

A long pause.  A very long pause.

“I’ve had diabetes for like 30 something years.  And I can confidently say that I’ve never had anyone ask me … ask me that.”

A first.

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