You Know... You Can Always Just Ask, Right?

I haven't written in a while. I've been so busy it's hard to find time, and consequentially I feel like part of me has, sadly, been missing. I love writing here, and I am always coming up with new ideas and things to add to my blog in my head. So let me segue back into writing with a short experience I had this morning.
I don't get many free mornings these days. August rolled around, and school started: I was totally, unequivocally unprepared for the intense amount of work and stress that hit me...

Well, needless to say, I was happy to sleep in this morning. I had work later that afternoon a short 30 minutes away instead of my typical 2-hour commute to Atlanta for princess-ing; with that in mind I rolled out of bed at 10:20, made coffee, cleaned, got ready and generally piddled around. Josh and I went out to breakfast. We went to J. Christophers, which always makes me think of our trip to Savannah now, and brings up many fond memories.
The wait for our food was excruciatingly long as the place was packed, but as it arrived I did the usual and diligently counted my carbs:

2 slices of wheat toast (about 30 carbs)
Grits (about 30 carbs, we aren't ever exact here, Diabetes, you imprecise science, you)

So about 60 carbs. I stretched over to the top of the chair and placed my left arm propped up so that I could get a good angle. Out of the corner of my eye peers a girl about 7 or 8, I'm guessing, maybe a little older. She has turned and is watching me extremely intensely as I jab the needle into my arm, slowly push down the button, and sit and wait while the insulin goes in for the obligatory 10 seconds. I pretend I don't notice. I look around. I look back at her.

That little girl is giving me the stare down! I laugh at Josh. "I saw too," he said. I am amused, not upset. It's not even a big deal, but being stared at is sometimes weird. (I say sometimes because when you're dressed as s princess in public, or a clown, x amount of times you get desensitized to such things.) It made me feel... older. Different. I am almost 20, and I know more about bolusing, carb counting and beta cells than most people will ever know in their life. I know my stuff. I forget some people don't, and that sometimes it must be weird to look through someone else's eyes and see what I do.

I prick my ears up as the little girl turns back around. I watch her and her father out of the corner of my eyes still, and see his gaze directed at me. I smile a knowing smile at him, the "yes I just gave a shot in front of your daughter and probably confused her" smile that perhaps only Diabetics know. Hey, you get special perks when you're part of the club.
"Daddy, she just gave herself a shot. Why?"

Note: Trying to be subtle about it only makes it worse. Yes, I can hear you when you whisper excitedly/accusingly about some weird Diabetes thing I just did.

I hear her Dad trying to explain it in clips and pieces. I am tempted to turn around and simply tell her that I have Diabetes and say, "You know... You can always just ask, right?", but I try to put myself in her shoes. I wouldn't have asked either. Probably, just whispered excitedly and confusedly. Well, at least I know why I do what I do, right? I pay a hefty price for the knowledge, but it's all part of life, I suppose.

Josh and I get up, and leave the restaurant - I'm Diabetic, and that's alright. People stare. Ask questions. Avoid eye contact. Wonder curiously. I'm still me, just plus a chronic disease. Let them stare. It's always less embarrassing than walking into a gas station dressed as a mermaid.

....... always.