Reality Cpt. 2 - GF Stands for Gag Fest

…Candy is G-F!

I had been diagnosed with Celiac disease for about a month when the husband came home and disappeared into the pantry foraging for dinner. The pantry was fairly empty as I had just decimated the house of all gluten. 85% of all food in the grocery stores has at least one ingredient with gluten,[1] so our pantry was 85% empty.

He poked his head out and around the corner and said, “There are thirty candy bars in here.”

“Yes,” I responded. “and your point is…?”

“Well,” he hedged with the agility of a full month’s practice at dodging GF tirades, “I’ve just never seen candy bars in our pantry.”

I stepped over a child writhing on the floor in the throes of a full-blown sugar buzz and walked toward him.

“Each of those candy bars are gluten-free and safe. Those are all on the do-or-die diet—the list of things I can have.” And with that, I raised an eyebrow, crossed my arms and set my chin at an angle.

“Oh,” he says, as he ducked back in and shut the door. His input in the conversation ended.

“There are also Fritos by the nightstand and a bag of Cheetos in the driver’s side console,” I stated triumphantly!

Neither of those bags of processed poison would have ever had ever had a place in our house, B.C.D. But times had changed and the husband knew that ‘before celiac disease,’ was a veiled reference to a much happier place and a happier time. 

It was a period  when everyone in the house dined exquisitely on homemade wheat bread, thickened gravy, breading, sauces, and hand baked items of deliciousness created by the queen of cuisine.  A time when only I was miserable and sickly.

“I can have them,” I reiterated as I stood in front of the closed door. Both of the people inside the pantry and those writhing around outside, wisely maintained their silence.

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[1] An internet statistic, but it works here.