Look At Me! I LOVE The Bandwagon! Weee!

Photo Credit: Shannon Ritter

Bad news, guys.

Gluten hates me.

Which makes me sad, because I’ve always been great to gluten. Always favored it. Always given it more than its due.

I’ve mocked the gluten-free fad (because diet fads, as a rule, are ridiculous anyway). I’ve bragged about my love of all things doughy.

Mmm … bread.

And I don’t even just mean dessert bread. Sugar-y bread. Special bread with cheese baked onto the top, or zucchini shredded on the inside, or butter gently melting into the plush, steaming slice.

Those are all good, of course, but even a little whole-wheat roll, fresh out of the oven with a thin, crisp crust and a fluffy, grain-y inside, is heavenly.

Heavenly

But it’s been five months and every night I go to bed frustrated at the leftover belly under my nursing bra. So I started doing a little research. I found some great info on diet and exercises, and diagnosing what is best for your body and lifestyle, etc.

Reading one column I started to recognize my tummy.

“That’s me! That’s exactly what happens! Yes! Here comes the solution! Tell me what to do and I’ll do it!”

Stretch and breathe deeply in the morning?

“Um … okay. Easy enough.”

Food intolerance … lifetime … no other symptoms … unknown … most people … gluten.

“That can’t be it. Gluten wouldn’t do that to me. We’re friends. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember.”

Try cutting it for two or three days and see if I notice a difference?

Okay. That’s not very long. Gluten will understand. If you love something, set it free, right? It’s just a short break. A weekend out of town, really. We can do this.

Uh-oh. I do notice a difference. A big, huge difference.

Cuss

How could you do this to me, gluten?! I thought we understood each other, but you were just trying to make me fat! I’ve been doing planks and crunches and all of it for months and you’ve been back there laughing at me. And now you’re throwing me under the bandwagon, ’cause what else am I supposed to do?

Ugh.

I love you, gluten. I always will. I just don’t think we can be friends anymore.

(Except for Sunday dinners at Mom’s. Because what happens at Nana’s house, stays at Nana’s house.)

Anyone else been burned by gluten? Commiserate.