Shame on ME

An opinion piece on New York Times piqued my interest recently. It was titled, "This Column is Gluten Free."



Now, if you followed this blog for any length of time, you would know I was diagnosed with celiac disease years ago and have managed my diet ever since. My diagnosis was pretty graphic as every time I would eat gluten, my overloaded system would respond with some sort of extreme reaction such as angioedema (large hives) that covered the bottom of one foot. So needless to say, I tend to read lots of articles that provide strategies to keep that from happening again.

But this article was different. This highlighted how individuals use food allergies to further perpetuate the ME culture.

If you are unaware of this phenomenon, the ME culture is something that started tangentially by the baby boomers and has lifted to new heights with millennials thanks to constant social media pandering. Facebook is the number one social media platform for marketing because it is so widely used, you get unprecedented access to people's lives. This is followed closely by Instagram, a platform solely dedicated to the selfie.

Sadly, this isn't just a millennial issue. As a social media manager, I'm required to have three social media accounts of my own to do my job. I chose Facebook, Twitter and Instagram which  call the triumpherant.  It's hard not to notice that everyone is obsessed with themselves, including many of my peers. When they aren't photographing their face, it's their kids, their food, their dogs, etc.

Now before you blast me, I have taken a selfie or two. I have even run a blog for over a decade that chronicles my bathroom habits, terrible things my kid says, my obsession with the Foo Fighters, my divorce and subsequent dating and the time I nicked an nipple.

Those who live in glass houses should not drink whiskey, strip naked and wander around reading trashy magazines... or however that saying goes.

Either way, it still seems as a society we have a problem with ME. We use twitter to bash and revile someone we don't even know because WE must share our opinion. We put a book by a woman with no discernible skills but who can take selifes on the New York Times Bestseller's list. We even stage Instagram photos to make our life seem way more exciting than it is.

Now the thing that makes us special, highlights the ME, is your raging, possibly fake food allergy.

"...most conspicuously in the most aggressive, competitive, unequal, individualistic, anxiety-ridden and narcissistic societies, where enlightenment about food has been offset by the sort of compulsive anxiety about it that can give rise to imagined intolerances and allergies."

Isn't it about time to stop??

I'll be Healthy if it Kills me

Because I eat a gluten free diet, I'm probably a little more aware of the stuff I put in my mouth than most. But I admit I do just enough not to break out in hives and that's about it.

Recently I had a series of health "issues" (i.e. not really scares but more than problems and a few that made me think I should revise my will) that made me rethink the healthy eating plan.

Those same health "issues" also raised my anxiety level from its normal yellow (fine -- organge) to full on RED. 

So I took evasive action. 

The problem is that eating healthy, taking the right supplements, getting a minimum of 30 minutes a day of exercise, sleeping 8 hours a night, drinking five bazillion gallons of water while giving up sugar and caffeine makes me feel like shit. Mega shit.

Let's start with the supplements: 

• Magnisium must be taken two full teaspoons but preferably at night and with Vitamin C which is better taken on a full stomach in the morning with breakfast when you take 900 milligrams of fish oil, a probiotic for colon health, and B12 which helps with energy efficiency at the cellular level.
• Vitamin D helps with anxiety and is best taken at night but also get plenty of natural viatmin D (sunshine) but wear sunscreen to protect from skin cancer but oh by the way, that blocks the vitamins.
• Olive oil when taken a spoonful at a time will ease digestion but too much will give you an "active" bowl. 
• Three teaspoons of apple cider vinegar in a full glass of water at room temperature will help balance your stomach acid and make your vagina smell like roses but too much will upset your delicate PH and cause yeast overgrowth. 

On to diet:

• Fresh fruits and vegetables but not the ones that are too large or too perfect because they are likely from genetically modified seeds which could or could not cause cancer but no one really knows because there is no proof one way or another. 
• Meats, mostly lean white althought you need some red meat for iron but not too much because it will cause fat to build up around your heart and did I mention the antibiotics in the meat so free range or grass fed is best and yes it's more expensive but it's YOUR HEALTH. 

What about excercise:

• Cardio is good but don't run because it will cause saddle bags if you have the wrong shoes, which let's face it, you do, unless you were specially fitted with the RIGHT shoes with orthotics that cost as much as you spent on college. 
• Weight lifting is better but make sure you have proper form because one twist in the wrong direction and that knee that bothers you sometimes will pop and that's a minimum surgery with six week recovery in your future. 
• Too much excercise and the wrong balance of calories will lead your body to starvation mode in which it STORES fat in your ass and stomach just in case. Or you will lose weight but not in the right places which will cause other places (and why the stomach always??) to bulge. 
• Excercise helps anxiety but meditation is better. Meditation is hard. And I suck at it. 

There is one solution to all these ills that seems to fit. Whiskey: 

• Alcohol in moderation is beneficial. I can't hold my liquor so I am forced to moderate. 
• It makes me sleep. Sleep is good. 
• Whiskey chills me out. Anxiety abated. 
• I can run when I drink, but it's funny. Laughter is the best medicine. 

I think we have our winner. 

For the love of all that's bacon

Before I had my funky little allergy, I was what you might call a verging vegetarian. I ate very little meat, and when I did it was fish or chicken. I hated red meat. Anything with too rich a flavor, such as wild game, was repulsive.

I just knew that meat hurt my stomach. In retrospect, I see it was the half-loaf of bread I choked down with dinner that was ripping my intestines apart. Be thankful for that bit of knowledge.

Since last year, not only have I grown to love meat, it is a true cornerstone of my diet. One meat in particular has blossomed in the cockles of my heart: bacon.

When not smothered in syrup overflow from surrounding pancakes, bacon is the stuff of gods. And, my sister taught me how to cook it in the oven so it doesn't stink up the house. Since that day, bacon is a constant on my grocery list.

Now I know what you're thinking: no one should eat that much bacon. But when it's not paired with the bread on your BLT, you can actually eat more of it.

So imagine my chagrin when I saw an article this weekend titled, Against Bacon. I was prepared to be aghast!

And then one little quote saved the day. "There's a reason you've allowed yourself to be bacon-brainwashed. His name is George W. Bush. You ran to bacon when he took office and started tappipng your phone line. You found bacon comforting and distracting. Before you knew it you were starting blogs called Bacon Freak and the Bacon Show."

Proving once again that Bush is to blame for everything.

Stuck in her thumb, pulled out a ... ewww

Watching my body change after my celiac diagnosis has been ... interesting.

On one hand, my weight settled easily into my ideal weight range. In fact, I'm a tad on the shallow end. I lost a whole bra size in that deal though, which is depressing. My digestive irregularities disappeared almost completely. My skin is glowing and my hair is actually growing. Believe it or not, that is a problem for curly hair. It doesn't grow so much long, as out and into a bush.

Despite being gulten free for almost a year, I still find funny ways to torment myself.

For example, last night the ball of fire --who was feeling very under-the-weather -- wanted to make chocolate chip cookies. I gave in. As I was scooping tablespoon-sized globs of gooey sweetness onto the cookie sheet, I noticed my thumb was itching like crazy. I finished the sheet, slid it in the oven and washed the cookie dough off. My thumb was red. Within minutes, three little hives popped up. I took a shot of Benadryl and sprayed the hives with Benadryl spray (best invention EVER).

The hives didn't last long, but presented a new layer of body issues. My sensitivity is actually heightened by the fact that I no longer have gluten in my body.

I called my mom, who I believe also has gluten sensitivty, to tell her about my latest discovery. I've been trying to convince her to go gluten-free for months. I think she's finally getting on the bandwagon.

We've been exploring the hereditary aspect of gluten intolerence for a while. I'm pretty sure my granny has some sensitivity, my mom and my sister.

I blame our Irish heritage. It's all that damn beer!

Beer gut

I have been so good with my diet. At home, I adapt recepies to work around flour or eliminate ingredients that might cause a reaction. I cook often, trying lots of new menus that revolve around fresh fruits, vegetables and spices. I have a 1000 and 1 ways to cook chicken. So when I wanted to try this new cuban pork chop receipe, I was confident I could adapt and still enjoy a fine meal.

I did great. I replaced the three tablespoons of flour for cornstarch to thicken the sauce. I use an organic chicken broth (MSG free!) to add flavor. As that simmered, I broiled some chops, replete with olive oil and rubbed with cracked black pepper.

As I waited for the chops to cool before slicing, I added the final dash to my sauce -- one cup of the finest local wheat beer. I dumped it in.

Wait for it....

Motherfu---!

Wheat beer. Guess what. I can't eat wheat. I can't drink beer. I can't eat this dinner I just spent 40 minutes making.

Lucikly I hadn't dumped in the sliced meat so I saved a chop for myself and finished dinner for the family.

Sometimes it really sucks being an idiot.

King of crap

Whenever I tell people I have celiac disease, I hear one common statement, "Oh, I could never give up bread. I love bread!!" (Insert pasta for bread if you prefer.)

Yes, you could. In fact, you would be thankful, on your knees praying to the goddess of skinny jeans, for finally figuring out why your body hates you.

I had no problems with switching my diet. It was worth it to lose the ulcer, irritable bowels, achy joints and the unexplained skin bumps on the back of my arm. Knowing that one donut would cause me days of cramps, bloating and the inability to leave the house for more than 20 minutes is more than enough encouragement to skip the glaze.

What I do miss is dinner out. I love to eat in restaurants, especially pan asian. For those of you who have known me for a while, you understand the loss I've felt when I realized that crab rangoon was no longer an option. My moaning could be heard for days.

Fortunately, over the past eight months, I've slowly figured out how to work the system. I know which restaurants have decent food that I can eat. I can order a sandwhich and pull the bun off -- and the top layer of lettuce -- and still have a nice lunch.

Last night, we were rushing to church and took a quick stop at Burger King. Before celiac, Burger King was the only fast food place I allowed. After celiac, well we still don't eat fast food.

Whopper with cheese, no onions, no mustard. I stripped the bun and sliced it up in the perfect little bites. It took 20 minutes before I knew that I had made an error.

Sometimes gluten hides in other foods that you don't consider wheat-based, including mayonnaise. It's used as a thickner to bulk up a usually runny product.

So here I was stuck in a room with 16 4th-6th graders practicing Christmas music. It always starts as a sharp pain on my left side, right under my ribs ... the former home of my much-maligned ulcer.

From there it rolls down the side and swells into jean busting bloat. Do you see where this is headed?

Luckily I made it home before final meltdown, but just barely. I've only had one incident where I was forced to explode in a public restroom, which I avoid at all costs.

Crapping my pants in front of a room full of kids? Oh God. That's just middle school all over again!