So I went to the doctor the other day. News is not good. I had the sneaky suspicion that I have an intestinal aversion to dairy products. He confirmed that that was probably true and that for the rest of my life my cereal will have to be accompanied by soy milk or worse, goat milk. And no more ice cream. Sundaes and parfaits and blizzards and waffle cones, thanks, it was good. I'll miss you all.
If only that was it. The good doctor suggested my stomach might also have a thing against gluten. The one thing I didn't want my stomach to have a thing against. So I'm currently testing out his theory, trying not to eat bread. And I think he might be right. Damn doctors. How, I ask, am I to survive without bread? No more peanut butter and jam sandwiches? I live off peanut butter and jam sandwiches. I eat them for my supper and I eat them for my lunch. If I had a hundred sandwiches I would eat them all at once!
So looks like no more ice cream and no more sandwiches for me. Curses.
At least this has given me occasion to get reaquainted with fruit in all its various forms.
(OK, confession time: I'm writing this while at work. So I'm sitting in the music department and this girl steps up to one of the listening stations, selects a CD and proceeds to sing very loudly and very, very out of tune. I'm trying my best not to laugh.)
So in the end, even though my dietary lifestyle is crumbling before my eyes, I can still laugh at stupid children...
If only that was it. The good doctor suggested my stomach might also have a thing against gluten. The one thing I didn't want my stomach to have a thing against. So I'm currently testing out his theory, trying not to eat bread. And I think he might be right. Damn doctors. How, I ask, am I to survive without bread? No more peanut butter and jam sandwiches? I live off peanut butter and jam sandwiches. I eat them for my supper and I eat them for my lunch. If I had a hundred sandwiches I would eat them all at once!
So looks like no more ice cream and no more sandwiches for me. Curses.
At least this has given me occasion to get reaquainted with fruit in all its various forms.
(OK, confession time: I'm writing this while at work. So I'm sitting in the music department and this girl steps up to one of the listening stations, selects a CD and proceeds to sing very loudly and very, very out of tune. I'm trying my best not to laugh.)
So in the end, even though my dietary lifestyle is crumbling before my eyes, I can still laugh at stupid children...
All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.
- Julian of Norwich
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