You start feeling like a freak anyway, when you can’t eat wheat due to celiac or gluten intolerance.
Like driving around with family or friends trying to decide where to eat. Someone inevitably says, “Vanessa gets to decide. It has to be somewhere she feels is safe.” The world-revolves-around-me freak.
Or, you sit down at a restaurant and tell the waiter that you need a “gluten-free” meal and sometimes you just get this blank look. So, you briefly explain it. Then he brings you your salad with croutons, or garlic bread perched on top of your entree. Then he is annoyed when you have to send it back. (Good idea: Call ahead and ask the restaurant if they can accommodate a GF meal. A lot of times they like the heads up. And we always tip more because it just all plain takes longer and it is a pain in the butt.) The annoying freak.
Sometimes the waiter comes back and says, “I talked to the chef and about all you can have is the salad without any dressing or flavor, the boring chicken plain without sauce, and the vegetables steamed without the seasoning.” (My interpretation anyway.) Okay, I’ll take that.
One time my husband and I were visiting my daughter up in Folsom. She made a delicious GF meal for me the night before, (thank you Tara). The next day I was foraging around in her refrigerator looking for leftovers when my husband called to me that it was time to go visit some friends who live somewhat nearby. Knowing that he had not yet eaten and had In & Out Burgers on his mind, I told him that I was looking for something to eat. He replied that, “We need to get going. You can eat some cashews in the car.” WELL, that made me crazy angry because that is what I mostly ate the day before on the drive up. “Then you are not allowed to get anything hot and nutritious!”, I said with eyes blazing and nostrils flaring. Unfortunately, this has become a family joke. The hysterical freak.
I wish I could go back to the days where I could walk into any ole place and order what I want without drawing all of this attention to myself. I hate to be so bothersome. Life can be humbling. Sigh.
It doesn’t end there, my woe-is-me saga, that is. Even in my own home I began to feel like a pariah. I became more anti-wheat. After all, I read that as little as 20 parts per million of gluten can make someone who is sensitive sick. I am not sure what that looks like but wheat crumbs and a dusting of wheat flour on the counter makes me nervous. I bought a GF toaster and GF cutting boards as well as made NO DOUBLE DIPPING rules for things like mayo and peanut butter too. We finally just made our whole kitchen GF. We felt we had to, but I still feel like: The paranoid freak.
I am very thankful though that I finally have the diagnosis, that I know that I cannot eat gluten. Before that my health was really spiraling down. That was a few years ago, and my health has greatly improved, although things are still healing. I just need to learn to be more content with my gluten deficit and find joy in it. Maybe become more of a thankful freak.