I broke; I succumbed to the nagging cravings and incessant depression. The two forces combined with a ghastly moon time to conquer my will for good health. But the past two weeks of indulgence and self-torture were not all for naught. I have learned more about this plague and the details of its affect on my body than I understood before.
It all started with Chef Simone McKinnley's pot de creme. These are the things I live for! I know what a good chef she is, and such a similar palate to my own. The chocolate custard was perfect--the creme was silky, not too sweet, nice and firm around the edges moving to a soft, slightly jiggly consistency in the middle. She was blowing them out at $4 a pop for the next menu change, so I simply had to indulge. I savored the whole dish all to myself over about two hours. That night I went to bed with clogged sinuses and a little bloat, but none of the intense cramping or interminable diarrhea that was expected.
The next morning, it was on! I marched my butt over to the co-op and bought a big loaf of cheesy, garlicky sourdough bread. I had made up my mind to eat the whole damn thing that day--and, no matter what the consequences, I would like it! Well, those consequences were sever. The familiar cramping and IBS symptoms always associated with milk, were actually caused in my digestive tract by the wheat.
Beyond the most obvious physical maladies caused by these food sensitivities, a few other issues have become glaringly apparent. For two weeks while I was binging, I truly wanted to find some focus when I sat in front of my computer screen to write this blog. I barely had the focus to get through my emails, and sometimes even they wouldn't get cleared for days. (I could zone out to video games, though!) I noticed the aching in my neck that was all but gone just weeks previous, was now completely inflamed. No amount of stretching or popping would assuage the pain.
Then there was the writing. I had heard that wheat sensitivities can be linked to forms of dyslexia, which I have had for many a long year. I have also heard that wheat affects the 'soft' muscles of the body (i.e. heart, eyes, sexy parts, etc.), so if you are one of the many who are taking issue with the grain, things might not be functioning as well as they could. For the past ten years I have noticed that, when handwriting, I have difficulty forming M's, N's, and H's. Strange, huh? When I stopped eating wheat, the need to mentally force my hand no longer existed. That didn't take long to return, however--just a few days of toast and it was back.
On top of the physical, there is the mental. Before this binge I was six months clean. I felt like I was glowing. For me, the Rapture was real! Then, the bender, and it felt like someone threw a wet towel on my fire. Try though I might, it was drudgery to think positively.
Strangely enough, for all of my wanting, none of the foods I was lusting after were quite as good as my mind remembered--except the pot de creme. They work so hard to hurt me--it's hard to keep them close. These days I love myself too much to allow that kind of abuse. I love myself so much that I am giving up what I love most in life.
It all started with Chef Simone McKinnley's pot de creme. These are the things I live for! I know what a good chef she is, and such a similar palate to my own. The chocolate custard was perfect--the creme was silky, not too sweet, nice and firm around the edges moving to a soft, slightly jiggly consistency in the middle. She was blowing them out at $4 a pop for the next menu change, so I simply had to indulge. I savored the whole dish all to myself over about two hours. That night I went to bed with clogged sinuses and a little bloat, but none of the intense cramping or interminable diarrhea that was expected.
The next morning, it was on! I marched my butt over to the co-op and bought a big loaf of cheesy, garlicky sourdough bread. I had made up my mind to eat the whole damn thing that day--and, no matter what the consequences, I would like it! Well, those consequences were sever. The familiar cramping and IBS symptoms always associated with milk, were actually caused in my digestive tract by the wheat.
Above is a video of Robyn O'Brien relaying some of her research on the rising number of food related illnesses
Beyond the most obvious physical maladies caused by these food sensitivities, a few other issues have become glaringly apparent. For two weeks while I was binging, I truly wanted to find some focus when I sat in front of my computer screen to write this blog. I barely had the focus to get through my emails, and sometimes even they wouldn't get cleared for days. (I could zone out to video games, though!) I noticed the aching in my neck that was all but gone just weeks previous, was now completely inflamed. No amount of stretching or popping would assuage the pain.
Then there was the writing. I had heard that wheat sensitivities can be linked to forms of dyslexia, which I have had for many a long year. I have also heard that wheat affects the 'soft' muscles of the body (i.e. heart, eyes, sexy parts, etc.), so if you are one of the many who are taking issue with the grain, things might not be functioning as well as they could. For the past ten years I have noticed that, when handwriting, I have difficulty forming M's, N's, and H's. Strange, huh? When I stopped eating wheat, the need to mentally force my hand no longer existed. That didn't take long to return, however--just a few days of toast and it was back.
On top of the physical, there is the mental. Before this binge I was six months clean. I felt like I was glowing. For me, the Rapture was real! Then, the bender, and it felt like someone threw a wet towel on my fire. Try though I might, it was drudgery to think positively.
Strangely enough, for all of my wanting, none of the foods I was lusting after were quite as good as my mind remembered--except the pot de creme. They work so hard to hurt me--it's hard to keep them close. These days I love myself too much to allow that kind of abuse. I love myself so much that I am giving up what I love most in life.
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