One of the advantages of going completely gluten-free is that I have more energy. That is, more energy to be snarky ----------- or angry --------------or ranty.
Yesterday I was whiny. I am already obsessing about what will go down during the next big holiday. 'Course, in order to make everything all better, I talked to MOM for a long long time over several days. Mom was so great, having gone through severe bouts of autoimmune disease herself. I spend a good part of my early youth shuttling around to different people's spare rooms while she was in the hospital for lupus, or whatever else they thought she had that day. So, she has developed this really cool attitude about chronic debilitating illnesses and such.
She said it would be absolutely no problem, since she regularly cooks for other family members with such severe allergies that they routinely land in the hospital. (Not from HER cooking.) She is skilled in keeping the wrong foods out of the wrong hands. But I am really fretting about another relative who does much of the cooking for our big family gatherings. Her life is filled with 20 kinds of pasta and bread boards, and cakes, and hundreds of gluten-infested baking containers. She carries a cloud of flour around her like Linus. If she had an "In Case of Emergency, Break Glass" box for her life, behind the glass would be a box of cake mix.
I imagine my kitchen littered with drying bread-crumbs, flour from the cinnamon rolls and muffins and pumpkin pies strewn about. I see her moving from dish to tasty dish, her various fingers and utensils stuck into every one. Now I know why I have been getting so sick every Thanksgiving. It is from the stuffing, made with half corn bread and half whole wheat, and somehow drenched in Campbell's cream of mushroom soup in a way that no one else has ever been able to duplicate. And from the mashed potatoes with real milk, drenched in giblet gravy with even more flour.
How can I tell her that we have to do it differently this time?
I was supposed to get together with relatives over the Easter holiday, but I just didn't have the energy to do it, but truth be told, I wasn't looking forward to the food confrontations either. Initially I had hoped to find an ally, or at least get some good help from someone who can read Hyperlipid like its the back of cereal box. But that was not going to happen.
How can I tell her that the diet that she detests so much is the only thing I can eat?
After missing the big Easter gathering, I checked her facebook page for posts and pictures from other attendees. What I found instead was a link to that awful paleo fantasy book interview, and a couple of snarky comments. (OK, guess snark runs in the family along with several copies of HLA-DQ2.) The poster could actually read and understand Hyperlipid as well, but won't.
I don't know why, but seeing this post upset me so much. I whined. I cried. My husband told me to get a life. I thought I might have to unfriend her, or at least leave another snarky comment before I cut the cord. But I couldn't unfriend the family chef!
I acquaintanced her. And, changed a few settings.
I just hate that Paleo is mandatory. I just hate Dr. MacDougall. I just hate Joel Fuhrman. I hate it all.