My dad knows that one of my favorite stores is Fiorucci, so when we got near it he suggested that we go in. He told me to pick out anything I wanted. For a second, I considered taking him at his word and asking him to buy me this outrageous purple suede jacket. Was it beautiful! Cropped short at the waist and covered with fringe all up the arms and across the back. But I did the mature thing (silly me!) and picked out a wild pair of sunglasses — heart-shaped ones, in a black-and-white checkerboard pattern. Claudia (my best friend in Stoneybrook) will love them, I know.

We walked and shopped some more, and by 5:00 we were starving, so we decided to go out for dinner. Dad let me choose the restaurant, so I picked Hunan Supreme, this Chinese

place in our old neighborhood. We know the owner there, Mr. Lee, and the food is great.

Our meal was delicious, but I have to say that dinner was not my favorite part of the weekend. Here's why: When our food came, I started to dig in, but Dad just sat there looking worried.

"Are you sure those noodles are okay for you to eat, honey?" he asked.

That might seem like a silly question, but he actually had a good reason to ask it. I'm a diabetic. I have to be really careful about what I eat, when I eat it, and how many calories it has. If I'm not careful, my blood sugar gets all out of whack, and I can get seriously ill. I also have to take insulin every day. I give myself the shots, which sounds horrible, but it really is no big deal once you get used to it. When I first got diabetes, my parents were constantly fussing over me. They made me nuts. But by now they basically know thatI know how to take care of myself.