I HATE celiac disease…
…you might have picked up that I am in a pretty surly mood at the moment.
This post isn’t about having any sort of grand revelation…. this is just a rant. (Fair warning – this post won’t ever be eligible for any sort of literary prize.)
I HATE GLUTEN!!!
This isn’t even the deep mourning I went into when I was first diagnosed. (Like when I would start crying in the super-sized grocery store because I couldn’t find anything to eat.) No…. that was part of a grieving process. I get that.
What this is, is just completely irrational anger. I hate gluten. I hate that it is in everything. I hate that the teensiest, tiniest little spec of it is poison to me. I hate that I can’t even eat anything that has touched a spec of it. I hate that (despite the good food they serve) I have to eat at the same 3 restaurants if I want to have a lunch meeting with a client. I hate that I have to pack a separate cupcake for my daughter when she gets invited to birthday parties. I hate that I always have to give people the third degree about what is in the food they made and how they plan to serve it. I hate that there are people in this world who think that people who can’t eat gluten are just being dramatic, or that we should just stay home and only eat there. I hate that some people, no matter how much you try and explain it to them, just don’t “GET IT”, and keep insisting on doing things that will cause me to ingest gluten. I hate that some people in my family won’t get tested because they can’t fathom how they would survive on a gluten free diet. I hate that they actually have symptoms and ignore it and I am asymptomatic and have to adhere to the gluten free diet anyway. I hate that I can never just pick up take-out or order a pizza to be delivered. I hate that most restaurants ideas of gluten free options consist solely of salads. I hate that next time I go to Germany I won’t be able to have a beer..and a pretzel as big as my head. I hate that my travels no longer include eating in little hole-in-the-wall places that we find whenever we get where ever we end up. I hate that sometimes the only place in a town that has gluten free food is always an Olive Garden (although their veggies are always surprisingly good.) I hate that no one in the entire planet makes a soft, chewy, bavarian-creme filled bismark that is gluten free. I hate that McDonald’s doesn’t have a gluten free happy meal. I hate that I will never again have a malt. I hate that my forays to the state fair no longer are excursions to try new fried foods, but instead super healthy meals. I hate that I have to shop in stores that smell like incense. I hate that I have to call companies to see if there is gluten in my shampoo. I hate that I get mad an envelopes that don’t have self-adhesive sticker strips on them. I hate that I will never have my mom’s cut-out cookies again. I hate that the metallic taste in gluten free pie crusts over-powers the flavor of the filling. I hate seeing “Vital Wheat Gluten” right next to a bag of gluten-free flour in the grocery store. I hate that I can’t bring home my son’s pasta-necklace for fear that it will get my daughter sick. I hate that Brach’s candy company labels all their bags as possibly being cross contaminated. I hate that I have to think about everything I eat, every time I eat a meal. I hate that I know what xantham gum is. I hate that there are no gluten free Spaghetti-O’s. I hate that I can’t order chocolate croissants anymore. I hate having to explain that I have celiac disease to complete strangers anytime we go out to eat. I hate feeling like a freak.
I hate gluten.
Pulitzer, here I come.