If you have been following my blog for any amount of time then you know of my on-going saga concerning gluten. If not, here is a quick recap. Two years ago, after some serious intestinal issues, I chose on my own accord to go gluten free. I lived and breathed gluten free not even considering “cheating” as to me it was not an option.
After returning to Virginia in January I sought out the help of a local gastroenterologist who urged me to resume eating gluten and then getting tested so I would know once and for all if I do indeed have an issue with gluten. While I initially balked at the idea of returning to what, in my mind, had caused my stomach issues, I did finally take his advice and plunged once more into the gluten laced food chain.
When I say that I plunged, I am not kidding. I dove head first into a breaded fish sandwich, on a bun and spent the next few weeks making up for all of the things I had not had the pleasure to indulge in for the past two years. It was not pretty, sexy, or even funny, it was a deep uncontrollable urge to take what was mine or at least what my body felt it had missed.
Please do not take this the wrong way as it is not my intent to belittle anyone who has an addiction, but I feel in some way like I have fallen off the wagon. Like an alcoholic who had succumbed to that sudden overwhelming urge to take a drink only I did so with permission. As it is since I have permission, and since thus far the issues that had originally caused me to go gluten free have yet to return, I feel as if I am on a fast train for which I have no breaks.
I love gluten. Okay that may be stretching it a bit but I certainly love the products which contain gluten. One thing I do love is Chick-Fil-A, and while I have tried I have yet to get my fill of their wonderful breaded white meat chicken sandwich draped with pickles on a soft bun. Okay I think I just drooled on my keyboard. Just kidding but you get the picture of my obsession with this sandwich of which I was banned for the past two years. On the other hand I think my poor husband is now totally burned out and holds his breath every time we are deciding where we are going for lunch as he knows what my first choice will be.
On a positive note, It has been determined that I am not celiac and that I can eat gluten however, as with most things I should eat it in moderation. That word has been my sticking point as I have not yet learned the definition. Okay I actually know the definition; it is just hard for me to adhere to it. To be honest with you it was so much easier when I knew I couldn’t have it. While I missed certain things I knew I couldn’t have them and it never crossed my mind to cheat. Well it may have crossed my mind but knowing the consequences I did not opt to do so. I do not like pain and in my mind gluten equaled pain so that in itself kept me honest. Since as I said I am not having the same issues it is much harder this time to say no. My inability to say no is actually what gave me the idea for this morning’s blog.
One thing I did miss when I was gluten free was snowballs. No, not the cold, white, innocuous stuff that falls from the sky, I am talking those gooey, yummy, round coconut covered chocolate crème filled cakes from Hostess. While I have thought of them often I have never thought of them when I was out and about therefore I had not actually crossed the line and bought one, until this morning that is.
I woke this morning feeling better than I had in days as I have been fighting a dreaded head cold since last weekend. I had the day off from watching baby E. and decided I would take the opportunity and drive to 7-eleven to grab a French Vanilla cappuccino, yet another wicked vice of mine. I got there and they have this new display right next to the coffee machines. It is a very attractive display of doughnuts; you know the ones that come in the little six packs, the powdered ones being my favorite, so I see them and feeling good I decide I am stronger than that and pass them by without issue. I grab my drink and turn and right there directly in front of me is the Hostess stand and yes right there in the middle, practically screaming “BUY ME” was the elusive snowball!
I looked around, saw no-one was looking, snatched it up and headed to the checkout counter. All the time I have this cake tucked way down near my side thinking if no one sees me it won’t count. I waited my turn, proudly displaying my drink in one hand and hiding the naughty in the other. I approached the counter and timidly placed the cake into view. It was at this point that the clerk, a lady, announces in a loud voice, “Cool they come in green.” She picks it up, holds it up for all to see and shouts this same information to another clerk who was on an isle several feet away; so much for my plan of leaving anonymously, with my hidden treasure. I felt like the guy in the condom commercial, where the clerk holds up the box and asked for a price check for condoms, size small.
As it was I went on to purchase the cakes, there are two in a package, and they are tucked safely away waiting for the time when I cannot say no. I know I have to rein in my eating and get my body back to where it needs to be. I need to focus on enjoying the flavor and not feeding the need and try once more to exhibit self control and the ever important act of eating in moderation.
On second thought it is almost lunchtime, I have the day off from watching baby E., and Chick-Fil-A is right around the corner. I think I will start practicing moderation right after lunch…