I Did a Stupid Thing

I ate pizza. Yes, I know. Wheat and dairy. Oh, believe me, I know. It sounded so good. So greasy. So cheesy. So not worth the two days of extreme discomfort I endured afterward. I doubt if I will ever touch a piece of regular pizza again.

This all got me to thinking about a handful of people I've encountered lately. The ones who roll their eyes or look all offended when I say that I'm allergic to wheat and dairy. You know what, I don't really care how inconvenienced they might feel, or how offended they are that I'm not willing to try their cheese-encrusted whatever. I'm starting to feel a little offended that someone would want me to spend a couple of days doubled over in pain. Or that my long-term health matters less than their birthday cake. And some of them are people that you would think would care about such things.

So, to those people who think that this is just a fun new hobby I'm trying out, you can think again. I cannot begin to express how difficult this journey with my health has been, what a relief it is to feel a little better, and how much I don't care that your cheese and cracker platter didn't get eaten. Feed it to the dogs.