Author Archives: Molly

Sprue Stories: The Disney Edition

We already know how Beauty and the Beast would go if Belle had celiac disease, but what about all the other Disney characters? We may not have a food-allergic or intolerant Disney princess yet, but that doesn’t mean we can’t pretend. After all, as Walt would say, “If you can dream it, you can do it.” As long as “it” isn’t “eat gluten.”

Check out my versions of the classics, then tell me yours!

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Simba just can’t wait to be king, when he can outlaw offering “just a bite” to people with celiac disease and, for that matter, ban gluten entirely. He’s got it all planned out: “No one sayin’ try this, no one sayin’ eat here; no one bakin’ rye bread, no one brewin’ wheat beer!” Oh, he just can’t wait to be king.

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The Lady didn’t find that shared strand of spaghetti quite so romantic when, an hour later, her typical glutening symptoms started up in full force. “I should have known it wasn’t really made of quinoa,” she raged at the repentant Tramp. “Footloose and collar-free, my tail.” She never trusted a date to pick the restaurant ever again.

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When Gaston was a lad he ate four dozen eggs every morning to help him get large. When this admittedly excessive regimen failed to produce the desired result, his doctor determined he was in fact egg intolerant. So now that he’s grown, he eats five dozen bowls of oatmeal instead, and it seems to be working for him because he’s roughly the size of a barge.

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Ursula, that old sea witch, knew just what she was doing when she struck her bargain with the mermaid. “I’ll make you human for three days,” she crooned, “and if the prince gives you a kiss, you’ll be human forever. If not, you’ll belong to me. I ask just one thing in exchange…your gluten.” Persuaded that giving up gluten for three days couldn’t be that hard, Ariel agreed. But when she found that Ursula’s minions were plying the prince with the bread and cupcakes she’d forsaken, Ariel realized the catch: if she kissed the gluten-eating prince, she wouldn’t herself be gluten-free. When the sun set on the third day with her end of the bargain unfulfilled, Ariel lost her legs, her prince, and her freedom—but at least she regained her gluten.

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Aladdin finally realized that those loaves of bread he kept stealing from the market weren’t doing him any good. And not just in the criminal record department, if you know what I mean. But when he asked his magical friend for help, Genie wrung his big blue hands and said, “Sorry, pal, even I can’t help you with that. Celiac disease is incurable, you know.”

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Cruella was gung-ho about collecting the Dalmatians’ coats for her own—until their fur began falling out, that is. Then she lost interest and set them free. Little did she know it was caused by malnutrition from gluten sensitivity and could have been easily solved by switching kibble brands. When the pups found their way home—all 101 of them—their story was picked up by news and talk shows across the country. A successful online fundraising and awareness campaign paid for their new, more expensive dog food and, as a bonus, sought out and brought to justice Ms. de Vil, who had since moved on to terrorizing animals with better functioning immune systems.

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None of those sorry excuses for men could manage to shimmy up the climbing pole, much less fight off a horde of Huns. But when Mulan cut wheat out of her diet, her brittle bones recovered and her energy soared—as did she, right up to the top of that pole. These days she’s such a changed man—er, woman—that when she looks in the mirror she still can’t recognize her reflection.

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Once the celiac disease epidemic had reached epic proportions, human beings fled the planet, leaving behind only a few robots to scour away every trace of wheat, barley, and rye that remained. They planned to return one day, but with their newly healed digestive systems absorbing nutrients aplenty, they quickly became fat and complacent. And why risk the cross-contamination? Years later, just one lonely robot remains, diligently uprooting stalks of wheat. But the real story begins when Wall-E starts exhibiting signs of gluten sensitivity, too…

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Do you have a new ending for Wall-E or a gluten-free or food-allergy/intolerance spin on The Jungle Book, Ratatouille, or another one? Who’s your favorite Disney hero(ine)/villain? Let me know in the comments!

Photo © Brian Jackson | Flickr

Where (some) dreams come true
Photo © Brian Jackson | Flickr

Pssssst…If you liked this post, check out the fairy tale edition, too.

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I’m gluten-free. I’m single. Do I need Gluten Free Singles?

Gluten Free Singles dating site

I am a gluten-free single. I have celiac disease, so I’ll never eat gluten again. I do still want to date…but what does that have to do with gluten?

Judging from the response to the newly launched dating site Gluten Free Singles (hereafter GFS), the majority opinion is “nothing.” Reactions to the site from the non-gluten-free have ranged from bemused to dismissive to downright derisive.

But the premise isn’t really all that crazy. Here’s why:

1) Eating gluten-free (really, truly, not-continuing-to-damage-your-body-through-lax-adherence gluten-free) is hard. Lots of packaged foods are off the table, and it’s recommended not to eat out at allanywhere, until your symptoms have resolved, which can take six months to two years. Even then, most places boasting “gluten-free” menu items aren’t actually trustworthy. One bread crumb or a few drops of soy sauce cause harm, and most restaurant kitchens are too cramped and frenetic to prevent such contamination. Eating at someone else’s house? Forget about it.

2) Dating someone who isn’t gluten-free, if you’re gluten-free, is really hard. Not only because the person might not fully get it or even believe you. And not only because our dating culture is so intertwined with food—think dinner dates, ice cream cones on the beach, romantic home-cooked meals in. It’s also because you, as a gluten-free person, might not want to hold hands with someone who was just holding a sandwich, in case you forget and touch your own food afterwards. Or you may not want to tongue-kiss someone who drinks beer, because research suggests that food particles linger in saliva for hours in high enough quantities to trigger reactions. And, eventually, if you start thinking about moving in together, you won’t want your squeeze to move a bunch of gluten into your kitchen. Cross-contamination city.

3) Convincing someone who doesn’t need to eat gluten-free to eat gluten-free just so you can be together is really really hard. Because, let’s face it, eating gluten-free kinda sucks.

Given all of this, when I was diagnosed in January, my usual priorities—from intellect to appearance to love of board games—shrank to nothing compared to the need for a significant other to be either gluten-free or super supportive. (Here’s a flowchart demonstration.)

Since GFS didn’t then exist, I set out to hack OkCupid into a gluten-free dating site of my own. Under “stats,” you can label your diet vegan or kosher, but not gluten-free (an unfortunate oversight), so I couldn’t search that way. Instead, I dropped my usual criteria (“single,” “needs photo,” “minimum height,” even “male”—because if I’m going to make this work, I’ll need to be flexible) and searched by keyword. Show me, I asked, anyone who has mentioned “gluten” or “celiac” in their profile. ANYONE.

At that point, I learned why dating, even with gluten-free boys, is still hard:

1) The options, even in a metro area, are scant. After weeding out the profiles that claimed, “I love anything with gluten” or, perhaps worse, “I’m gluten-light,” I was left with…not many.

2) Not every gluten-free boy likes me. Of the handful I messaged, only half responded. Huh, I thought. Don’t they know they need me?

3) I don’t like every gluten-free boy. I learned this after meeting up with two of them. They were nice enough, but it turns out there’s more to compatibility than gluten-free.

I decided to put the whole thing on ice and focus more on fixing my own intestines than on finding a matching set. I learned my way around the diet, hunted down new recipes, started a blog. As for dating? Let it be, I thought. It’ll happen.

Six months later, I’m still single. You see? Gluten-free dating is hard.

Enter GFS. The solution, right? Well…maybe. It levels the playing field, sort of. Everyone is gluten-free, so you can concentrate on things such as, say, your sexual orientation. If the site manages to amass a large enough pool of daters, it could make dating more convenient.

At first glance, such convenience is appealing. But on further examination, it’s less so. In the founders’ words, this is a network in which “you never have to feel alone, awkward, or a burden because you are gluten-free.” This implies that around “normal” people, you do feel this way—but that shouldn’t be the case.

Of course, shared qualities and logistics play a role in every relationship. Some long distance relationships fizzle, and some couples whose lifestyles don’t mesh call it quits. But, says the idealist in me, those aren’t the relationships I want. I want a relationship in which we do compromise—even in big ways—and do it well, without breeding resentment.

My family and close friends, for example, have gone above and beyond in accommodating my gluten-free diet. My parents bought new cutting boards, bowls, and cooking utensils when I visited, because those things can harbor gluten. A friend brought gluten-free groceries to my “safe” kitchen and cooked for me there. My sister agreed not to eat gluten at home when we moved in together (and then found out she had celiac disease herself—but that’s a different story).

I don’t take their consideration for granted, but if these loved ones can do it, can’t a lover do it, too?

To join GFS seems almost to answer that with “no”—to suggest that a guy wouldn’t find me worth compromising for. I don’t want to send that message to a potential date, and I don’t want to date someone who feels that way about himself, either.

My dad has always said that true love is waking up to make coffee every day even if you don’t drink it yourself. In an admittedly larger way, that’s what I want for myself. I wouldn’t say no to a gluten-free boy (or hell, who knows, a girl), but only if we also fit in other ways. Should that match not appear, I’m sure I can find love with a non-gluten-free boy, one who will look out for me as loving people do—that daily cuppa, if you will.

I’m not saying there’s nothing appealing in the idea of meeting someone who shares my lifestyle, and I don’t think a website for gluten-free singles is worthless. I’m just saying that having celiac disease doesn’t make me worthless, or worth something only to others who have it. I am not only a gluten-free single, you see; I am also an intelligent, attractive, talented, ambitious, (mostly) confident young woman well worth a compromise or two.

So…will I join GFS? I can’t say for sure I won’t (I’m curious). But if I do, I won’t give up on meeting folks offline, and I won’t abandon OkCupid, either. After all, with all those 93% matches to choose from, I’m bound to find the one sometime.

Note: I originally posted this on Kinja in response to a Jezebel post about Gluten Free Singles. I’ve now reposted it in full here.

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What are your thoughts on dating gluten-free?

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Breaking news: blogger seeks “likes” on Facebook

Hey all, just a quick update today: Based on a Sprue Story is now on Facebook! Click here to like my page and get updates on your very own news feed.

All of my old posts have been added, so you can scroll through and see them all thumbnail-style (and share them with everyone you know, of course). It’s an easy way to follow, especially for those of you who were so cruelly abandoned by Google Reader.

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Plus, check out yesterday’s post and share a story about grocery shopping now that you’ve had some time to think about it. There are some great ones there already.

Hope to see your smiling thumbs-upping faces soon—and wishing you a great Thursday.

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Tell me a sprue story about…grocery shopping

In the wake of the FDA finally announcing gluten-free labeling rules (read about it here, here, and pretty much everywhere), I’ve been thinking about grocery shopping even more than usual, if that’s possible.

In the spirit of celebration, I’d love if you would share YOUR stories about gluten-free grocery shopping—make them sad, funny, infuriating, short, long, general, specific, anything you want…as long as they’re “sprue.”

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Photo © Memphis CVB | Flickr

Here’s mine.

For me, shopping with celiac in tow is only slightly more stressful than it used to be (and still likely not as stressful as having, say, a toddler in tow—or with both, a plight with which some of you are familiar).

That’s because even before I went gluten-free, my grocery shopping trips were already interminable processes of pausing, considering, picking up, rejecting, and repeating. I blame this on:

a) calorie consciousness, which adds time spent reading labels and doing little calculations like, “X calories times Y servings per equals WTF HOW CAN THERE BE THAT MANY IN THIS TINY BAG?,” followed by hunting for more reasonable choices;

b) money consciousness, which adds time spent chewing over this option versus that option and more little calculations like, “X dollars divided by Y servings equals WTF HOW CAN IT COST THAT MUCH FOR THIS TINY BAG?,” followed by hunting for sale items (something that now takes less time, because it’s simple: the gluten-free items are NEVER on sale);

c) lack of spatial awareness or visual memory (I can’t see images in my mind, perhaps due to mild dyscalculia, which would also explain why the aforementioned calculations always take me so long), which adds time spent wandering slooooowly down aisles looking at each item and hoping that one of them will magically turn out to be the thing I came in for, which I sort of thought I’d seen before somewhere, but in which aisle or store I couldn’t say;

d) vegetarianism, which adds time spent scanning ingredients lists for gelatin and trying to remember which cheese brands use microbial rennet (and trying to nail down once and for all my viewpoint on animal-derived rennet—a philosophical dilemma that also, incidentally, adds time to my shopping trips);

and I could go on.

In other words, with or without gluten, I suck at shopping. With so many hem- and haw-worthy items in mind, I dawdle my way through the aisles. When I finally emerge from a Whole Foods or a Fairway or a TJ’s, I feel a bit like a mortal departing the fairy underworld, leaving behind halls bursting with enticing and enchanting food, and having no idea how much time has passed in the outside world.

I lug my bags home in a daze and often find, as I sort through the treasure, that in a sudden panic after too much time spent deliberating I managed to buy several items I do not need, will never use, or cannot use (such as, recently, those two boxes of granola bars whose first ingredient—oats, even gluten-free—is one I do not eat). Perhaps I do this unconsciously to form a link between myself and those magical realms; I must return, you see, to make the return.

Despite all this, and even though nobody likes a slow shopper during the afterwork rush hour, I always make it through with my sanity intact. And even after a rough trip when nothing is certified and everything is overpriced, I don’t feel discouraged for long.

Because…I must admit…I like grocery shopping. I like discovering interesting new ingredients, I appreciate marketing slogans and packaging strategies, I enjoy checking items off the shopping list, I indulge in people- and cart-watching, I sniff the bottoms of pineapples like a pro, I savor the sudden chill of the freezer aisle and thrill to the sight of a good bargain, and, above all, I know it’s all in service of a great cause: delicious gluten-free, vegetarian, (mostly) thrifty, nutritious, home-cooked meals.

Worth every second.

Don’t forget to share your story about gluten-free grocery shopping for you or others. Alternatively, tell me how you feel about the new labeling rules. Are they everything you hoped they’d be? (Links to your own blog posts on the subject are, of course, welcome.)

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