Goddamn I am sick of food sensitivities. I’m honestly starting to wonder how people do it. How I’m going to do it.
Today, I’m in Rochester visiting my sister and we took a family trip to lay to rest the ashes of my mother. Maybe it’s just the wash of emotions contained in such and act, but the frustration of eating today made me want to scream.
After The Deed, we stopped for lunch at a pizza and sub shop, where I ordered the one single salad I could eat- the rest of them being dairy filled. I sat there upset while my family ate things like mozzarella sticks- food I can’t eat coated in food I can’t eat, fried in food I can’t eat- and pizza. It sucks enough finding things to eat at all, it’s so much worse eating out. It’s a game I can’t win, one where I choose the only thing on the menu that won’t actually make me violently ill, and hope to hell I actually like it.
I’m not upset with my family, of course. None of it is their fault and I’m happy they can eat without constant worry. But it was so hard today that I wanted to just get up and leave. I wanted to just walk away. But I bucked up. After eating, we went next door to get ice cream. Looking at the menu I saw one non-dairy option: lemon sorbet. “fuck,” I thought, “citrus sensitivity really sucks.” But then I noticed that they had Italian Ice, something that my sister and I grew up eating. So, I ordered the raspberry.
And they were out. They had orange and tangerine. They had two dozen flavors of frozen desert and not a single fucking one that I could eat.
Most of me is happy having found out what was wrong, to find the solution. There’s a part of me, however, that wishes I took the blue pill.
Oh, right, I’m blue pill sensitive.