So this has been weighing on me. And just to preface, as a well-functioning adult I fully comprehend that this is my body, and I get to do whatever I damn well want with it. But WOW, guys. This is some gnarly guilt raging in my insides that I have not felt in a while.
The story goes like this: I took a trip back to my college town this weekend on a whim - just packed up and left with no worries about what meal would be consumed at the end of the two hour car ride.
Instead, I obsessed over the thought of devouring my favorite treats from "the good ol' days." Those days, being the extremely volatile, pre-diagnosis years filled with late nights, strong booze, burgers/pizza/tacos, and boys who drank buckets of beer.
But there's this taco place in my college town that I adore. They have the second best tacos that I have ever eaten (the first. Not kidding. Not sure if they're GF either...). Hell, I'm salivating for them now. I had a hunch their magical morsels, with their corn tortillas and fresh ingredients, would be just fine for me, so I didn't hesitate too much when I perused the menu.
But something happened when it came time to actually speak to an employee.
I quit being celiac for just a moment.
I quit worrying about what seasoning was on the chicken, and how clean the prep area was, and if the kitchen staff used uncontaminated gloves, and on and on and on and on.
I quit living this life that I've been actively fighting for for the last eight months.
And I said nothing.
. . . I know.
I know every health consequence. I know every reaction the celiac community (and my mother) would give me. I know exactly what I would advise to another celiac if he/she was telling me this story.
But, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't hang out in my old life and bring my new life into it.
Maybe this is an averse side effect of being newly diagnosed, or maybe it's just me being an emotional 20something. But for just once I didn't want to be told that I couldn't eat something, or that something was "gluten-free but fried with other things that are not," or unconvincingly hear that they "weren't sure if it was safe, but they'd check."
So I quit. For one meal.
I'm not proud of it, and I'm definitely NOT saying you should do it.
But I will say, it was nice to have a break even for just one dinner. It was nice to feel normal again, to feel like it was just like old times.
(Until I felt sick.)
. . . Just like old times.