I wrote last Spring about the elimination diet that I went through and, eventually, how I discovered a sensitivity to gluten. From that time until now I have gone through many stages of grief over losing gluten from my life-- most of them involved trying to "sneak" gluten back in, just to, you know, see if anybody notices.
At first I could eat a little here and there, even as much as a small slice of pizza or a triangle of quesadilla or a few crackers. My body wasn't happy, but mostly it just grumbled a little bit. I eventually got serious about things and stayed away from gluten for a few weeks. Then I ate a few noodles and BOOM I was in pain within a couple of hours. The same pain I had always felt when I ate gluten, only times 100. I got the message that time, and backed slooooowly away from the things I so love to eat.
Then, yesterday, I eyed up the freshly re-heated slice of Papa Murphy's pizza I made for Eloise. I got weak in the knees, and weak in the constitution. I lifted it to my lips, and took a teeny bite. No harm done, I thought, and put it back down. Fast forward two hours and holy dear god in heaven. I had never felt so awful in all my life. The same pain, only times 1000. I ended up dragging the girls to the store, past their bedtime, so that I could stock up on more Pepto-Bismal and ginger tea. Luckily, those things both helped.
I could barely eat anything the rest of the day yesterday. I could barely eat anything today. The pain subsided for most of the day but came came back with avengence about the same time I picked up the girls from school. I spent the rest of the afternoon curled up in a ball on the couch being a b-i-t-c-h to my girls, who didn't deserve my attitude at all. I definitely turn in to a meany when I'm feeling like death warmed over.
All over one little bite of gluten. Yikes. You could say I've learned my lesson on this one.