Mar 27 2013
13 Comments
Breadcrumbs in the wilderness

For the record

You know when keeping a food log sucks? When you get to the end of a day and realize it looks like this:

Breakfast: Sugary cereal

Snack: ~1/3 jar of Dark Chocolate Dreams peanut butter

Lunch: Half a bag of tortilla chips with salsa and hummus

Snack #2: Gluten-free cookies

Dinner: Frozen premade Indian dinner, peanut brittle

Exercise: Skipped

 

You know when it sucks worse? When you’ve had a week of days that look like this:

Breakfast: Unsweetened whole-grain hot cereal with flax and almond milk

Lunch: Sweet potatoes, pinto beans, carrot sticks

Snacks: Reasonable portions of nuts, fruit and vegetables

Dinner: Tempeh, apple, and onion stir fry with brown rice and spinach

Exercise: Lots of walking, plus 45 minutes on the elliptical

. . . but you still feel like crap.

Photo © Ben Haley | Flickr

Photo © Ben Haley | Flickr

Amirite? I know my paleo friends are just waiting to pounce on that second entry, much as their ancestors descended upon prey in the savanna. There are at least as many different definitions of an ideal diet as there are calories in a third of a jar of peanut butter. My own sense that a whole-foods, plant-based diet should make me feel healthy is shored up largely by dogma and selective reading. Still, at the end of most days, I feel I’ve made pretty good food choices. But does it make a difference? My answer is in black (or blue, depending on pen color) and white.

When other people go on and on about how great their unprocessed veg*n diets make them feel, I often struggle with the urge to hurl butternut squash at their heads. I know intestinal healing comes first, and I’m sure an overall healthy diet is probably working invisible heart-protective magic, yadda yadda, but I can’t help but wonder: What’s the point of eating well if an unhealthy gluten-free diet and a healthy gluten-free diet leave me feeling exactly the same? For that matter, what’s the point of eating a healthy or unhealthy gluten-free diet if I feel worse on average than I felt when I was eating gluten? Why bother doing it right if I’ll still feel wrong?

When I start asking myself this kind of question, that’s when I know it’s time to call in the big dogma. Six months to two years to feel better on a gluten-free diet, I remind myself, mantralike.

Six months to two years. That’s a lot of days worth of food logs. Might as well make them good ones . . . well, most of them, anyway.

Photo © Tyler Dawson | Flickr

Photo © Tyler Dawson | Flickr

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Mar 26 2013
13 Comments
Whine is Gluten-Free

Dear Thief,

We met under simple circumstances: I was hungry, you offered me cookies. In six weeks, that is. Cash upfront.

Photo © C. C. Chapman | Flickr

Photo © C. C. Chapman | Flickr

Our encounter’s conclusion was foregone before I even opened the door, before your mother could turn to you with that “What do you say?” face, before you could cock your pigtailed head and say, “Do you want to buy some cookies?”  You were adorable, your mother frightening. You made a great team.

I hesitated, just for a moment, before your reluctant salesmanship won me over. Thoughts of my own brief stint as a cookie barker flooded me with sympathy: hours spent hitting the pavement, hundreds of knocked-on doors, desperate pleas to strangers and neighbors to support the annual cause without a thought to their waistline. By which, of course, I mean giving up almost immediately and hoping Mom and Dad would agree to take the order forms in to work like everyone else’s parents did.

I smiled, I shrugged, I paid for a box of Do-si-dos.

Like I said, the circumstances were simple. You were a small and enchanting Girl Scout; I was a peckish twenty-something who was assuming no news on her celiac blood panel meant no celiac. In fact, gluten didn’t even enter my thoughts as I considered whether or not to fork over my four bucks. (I’m not sure what did enter my thoughts, because really? Do-si-dos instead of Tagalongs? What was I thinking?)

But here’s the thing, my dear Scout: I know how long I’ve known I have celiac disease. And I know how long before that I knew I might have celiac, and I know that it was before any of that that you sold me that box of cookies and told me you’d deliver it to my door in six weeks. I know precisely how long it’s been. And I won’t embarrass you or risk your mother’s wrath by revealing the figure here, but let me just say, it’s been more than six weeks. And no cookies in sight.

You live in my building somewhere, or so I assume, so one day our paths are sure to cross. Will I ask? Or will I just shake my head and disapprove from afar? Will I blame it on your troop leader, or your mother who coached you so well? Will I chalk it up to the inevitable leaning back girls do from sales careers? Will I forgive?

Look, I know you girls have been through a lot this year, and it’s not as though I can eat the cookies anyway. But it’s the principle of the thing. One fraud does not warrant another. I paid good money for those cookies. Four dollars for one measly box of the worst flavor! The least you could do is give me the satisfaction of staring longingly at the packaging, maybe taking a sad photo for my blog, then passing the cookies off to my roommates.

I must say, this failure to deliver does not bode well for your future job performance. Where’s your follow-through? And, more important, where are my Do-si-dos? Where’s your Scout’s honor? Is that for boys only? The Girl Scouts may have lost me as a customer already, through no fault of your own, but if my lifelong and complete inability to consume your wares hadn’t convinced me, you have. This time next year, I’ll be making my own. And you’ll be scamming somebody new.

Disappointing, little Girl Scout. Disappointing.

Sincerely,
Molly

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Mar 22 2013
11 Comments
Breadcrumbs in the wilderness

The kindness of strangers, and a springtime surprise

On February 10th, two important things happened: First, I started my blog. Then, I lost my wallet.

I’d gone out to try to buy a certain size screw that my roommate needed for the counter he was installing in the wall for my very own gluten-free use (my roommates are very supportive and all-around great guys). I’d known I had celiac disease for nearly two weeks, and the weekend before, despite firm intentions, I hadn’t accomplished much of my kitchen makeover. This particular Sunday, I was more motivated. Unfortunately, although I went to three different stores, I didn’t find the right screws. I did, though, manage to pick up a wide array of tupperware and cheap utensils—and drop my wallet.

When I realized what had happened, I frantically retraced my steps. I threw myself upon the cashiers’ mercy in all three stores; in all three stores, they shook their heads sadly. The ground was slushy that day, so a red wallet would have shown up easily; it wasn’t anywhere along my route. It wasn’t on or under the shelves in any of the stores where I’d bent to inspect kitchenware, either, or near any of the hardware sections where I’d put my hand into my pocket to pull out the too-small screw I’d brought for comparison and, most likely, knocked my wallet to the floor.

When I got home to check my bank balances, the debit card had already been used (wisely enough) for an unlimited monthly subway pass. I canceled my cards, submitted a lost-and-found report on the MTA website, and resigned myself to never seeing that wallet ever again.

After the initial shock and self-beration, I got over the loss pretty quickly. I hadn’t been carrying much cash, and cards can be canceled. And enough was going on already that this just didn’t feel like that big of a deal. I already had to redo my kitchen, rework my entire mode of socializing, and eat strictly gluten-free for life. What was one more inconvenience?

Over the weeks that followed, I realized that losing a wallet isn’t just one inconvenience; it’s many. Besides canceling the credit cards, there’s the driver’s license to replace, and a stolen wallet report to be filed at a police station if you want to  replace the license for free; there are the library cards, the laundry card, the store loyalty cards (nooo, not the CVS ExtraCare card!), and the coupons and gift cards you’ve been hoarding; there’s the MTA monthly pass you’d already bought, and the pre-tax prepaid commuter checks you were meant to use to buy more passes in the months ahead; there’s the health insurance card, as I remembered while sitting in the waiting room at my latest doctor’s appointment; and of course, there’s replacing the wallet itself.

Now, I’m a lazy person when it comes to this sort of personal maintenance thing. I barely made a dent in replacing most of the above. In fact, all I replaced right away were the debit/credit cards and the ExtraCare card—because these are basic necessities. I carried these cards, plus a pay-as-you-go MetroCard, in a Ziploc bag for about two weeks before finally buying a $5 wallet from a street vendor. I made overtures toward replacing my insurance card and promised myself to file that police report any day now. I believe that at no point—until now—did I mention to my parents I’d lost the wallet, because my mother has literally “told me so” that my wallet would fall out of my unzipped jacket pocket one day.

Now, I’m glad I moved slow. Because someone out there with a pure and beautiful soul returned my wallet and made it all unnecessary. The wallet slowly wended its way to the old Washington Heights address listed on my driver’s license and from there was forwarded on the winds of the US Postal Service to my current apartment door, where it arrived yesterday.

Photo on 3-21-13 at 9.49 PM #4

As a kid, I had this annoying habit of saying, “Just what I always wanted!” in response to every gift I opened ever, obliterating any real sentiment in the phrase through overuse. But when I pulled my faithful red wallet (with all its contents intact besides the cash and bank cards) out of the mysterious yellow package, it really was just what I’d always wanted—or, at least, what I’d wanted since February 10th. Up until that moment, yesterday hadn’t been the best day, but this made the end of it great. To whoever it was who returned the wallet—even if you were the same person who took the credit cards—thank you.

I know that yesterday I was joking about springtime, new beginnings, and messages from the stars, but this almost does feel like a sign that my luck is turning, that things are on the up and up. Even my laptop’s camera is working again.

The wallet also held an old fortune cookie slip that read, You have a potential urge and the ability for accomplishment. I’d forgotten all about it, but I think I saved it because I found it a funny, qualified fortune; “potential urge” and “ability for accomplishment” aren’t exactly the most ringing of endorsements. Still, if the fortune felt significant enough to save before, now it feels positively definitive.

This month, along with my Aries friends, I’ll do my best to live up to my good fortune and accomplish a potential urge or two. Removing the former potential urge to replace my wallet contents is a helpful boost that should allow me to redirect my ability to accomplish toward other, more important goals. I will strive to be a worthy recipient of this generous springtime gift.

Photo on 3-21-13 at 7.47 PM #3

Thank you, thank you, benevolent universe and kind stranger.

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Mar 21 2013
28 Comments
Gluten-Free Astrology

Gluten-Free Astrology: Aries (born March 21 – April 19)

Photo © Jason Hill | Flickr

Photo © Jason Hill | Flickr

Yesterday was the first day of spring, and I totally missed out on marking it. Whoops! To demonstrate my awareness of the passing seasons, particularly at this time of new beginnings, I’m introducing a new monthly feature. That’s right, I’ve decided I’ve been at this Blogging Thing long enough to start having Features. I hope that you’ll find this only as presumptuous as unnecessary capital letters, and not more.

Now, for the preamble: there’s a hypothesis that celiac disease may be more common in those with spring and summer birthdays—especially spring. Yup, April baby showers bring May rice flour. The increased prevalence, so the hypothesis goes, has to do with the time of weaning (and, therefore, first gluten exposure) coinciding with the season of viral infections, which play a role in the development of some autoimmune diseases. For me, this brings a whole new meaning to family planning. If I’m ever in a position to conceive a child, I’ll be sure to do it in the spring. Or raise my child in a bubble, which just might be possible by the time I’m in a position to conceive a child.

But I digress. My point is, date of birth is a important piece of the celiac puzzle. And since we don’t know much of anything at all about non-celiac gluten-sensitivity, I’m happy enough to lump everyone in to the hypothesis and my New Feature. It’s called Gluten-Free Astrology and it will explain what else your date of birth means for your gluten-free status.

Photo © Manuel M. Almeida | Flickr

Aries’s symbol is the ram
Photo © Manuel M. Almeida | Flickr

Aries begins today, March 21st, and extends through April 19th. If your birthday falls in that span, here are my thoughts on what you can expect from the month ahead. (And by “my thoughts,” I of course mean “eternal and incontrovertible message from the stars.”)

The Gluten-Free Aries is ruled by the planet Mars, named for the god of war, aggression, and conflict. As a GF Aries, you likely have a conflicting relationship with your gluten-free diet and often argue with your doctors or yourself and lash out against others who question it.

You are a “me-first” type who should follow your natural impulse this month to put your gluten-free needs front and center in every encounter, whether it be at a friend’s home or at a restaurant, thereby increasing awareness for the rest of us. We will hope that a GF Libra, your polar opposite, comes along shortly thereafter to soothe any hurt feelings you may have caused, thereby increasing good will toward the rest of us.

However, this month you should also strive to overcome your innate tendency to be self-centered. One good way to do this, I’ve heard, is to comment on other people’s blogs, such as mine.

GF Aries stands for new beginnings, optimism, and change. This month, be open to new activities, friends, and channels for your boundless energy. You may find your life takes an unexpected direction (or you may not—this is astrology, after all). Perhaps your inborn desire to take the reins will encourage you to finally open your own business, and if so, I hope that it will be a gluten-free restaurant around the corner from my apartment.

Because of your extravagance, you may find yourself in debt this month of tax-paying, particularly if you’ve been pouring your extra money into that gluten-free restaurant. You’re a creative type who will always find your way out of such a bind, though, so please don’t let that stand in the way of your dreams. (Thai would be nice, or Mexican—hold the flour tortillas.)

The body part ruled by GF Aries is the head, so this month watch for migraines and facial injuries that may signal the start of a renewed battle with gluten.

And, if you’re interested in such things:

Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou

 A fellow celebrity with the sun in Aries is Maya Angelou. Though she has no trouble at all with gluten, so far as I’m aware, she’s still a great lady (and I turned up this great post about her from last year on Celiac and Allergy Adventures).

Russell Crowe

Russell Crowe

 Russell Crowe is another celeb who apparently does fancy himself a GF Aries—though I think he did it to lose weight, and we all know that man does not lose by gluten-free bread alone. (Plus, the paparazzi caught him carrying a pizza—no, Russ, “thin crust” does not mean gluten-free.) Hey, no one ever said celebrities have to be good role models. (On that note, Hugh Hefner is also an Aries.)

As a GF Aries, you lack patience and therefore have probably not bothered to read to the end of this post. That’s okay, as long as you hit the part about the new restaurant you’re opening for me this month. Just let me know when you’re open—I may be a flighty GF Gemini, but I am committed to bringing my spring-birthday-and-therefore-celiac-having self in once you’ve got it together.

The “information,” such as it is, in this post has been largely ripped off from The Only Astrology Book You’ll Ever Need, by Joanna Martine Woolfolk, which is in fact the only astrology book you’ll ever need (need here being a relative term).

Let me know what you think of my New Feature, and what your sign is so I can get started consulting the stars about your destiny. 

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