Last night certain monthly womanly things happened (subtlety, I has it), and I was craving something bad for me. Now, normally, I’d want Greg to run up to the corner store and get me a Skor bar, but for some magical reason, the mere mention of anything with milk (like milk chocolate) has me cringing. I haven’t had anything with milk or cow-derivatives since June 30th, and I sure paid for that salad and bread, lemme tell you.
Normally I start craving cheese about three hours after the last meal with cheese. The cycle goes something like this:
5pm: Eat cheese.
6pm: End up in bathroom for hours, cursing cheese’s name, calling out for chamomile tea, and sketching out plans for how I’m going to wipe out all cows with some kind of APPARATUS that I will call, THE BOVINATOR.
6pm-9pm: Vow never to eat dairy again.
9:30pm: Now that digestive system is completely empty, go to fridge to nosh. Hmmm……..leftover pizza sounds good….
Greg has been so fed up with me before that he’ll say things YOU JUST CAN’T TAKE BACK, like, “If you do that one more time, I’m never bringing you chamomile tea while you sit in the bathroom again,” or, “If you eat another slice of pizza, I’m not calling 911 when you think you’re dying later.”
So you’ll be proud to know, as he was proud to hear, that I turned to him after ten entire days off dairy and said, “I don’t want chocolate! I’d like a Twinkie, please! Everyone knows they don’t have dairy. They just have vanilla-flavored lard.”
“Well, that’s appetizing.”
“JUST DO IT, MAN.”
He came back with a 2-pack of them, and I dove in. Halfway through the first one things seemed a little suspicious. Don’t get me wrong, they tasted just as horribly and delightfully gross as I’d hoped, but there was something…..amiss. I checked the wrapper. Yep. About twelve ingredients down, after all the preservatives and lard and vanilla flavoring and what I assume must be some alternative form of embalming fluid, there it was: sweet dairy whey.
I threw the rest out. Aren’t ya’ll proud? I chucked those puppies.
I still consider myself emotionally dairy-free, since accidental dairy doesn’t count.
The Twinkie Defense: “But I didn’t know it had DAIRY!”
Normally I start craving cheese about three hours after the last meal with cheese. The cycle goes something like this:
5pm: Eat cheese.
6pm: End up in bathroom for hours, cursing cheese’s name, calling out for chamomile tea, and sketching out plans for how I’m going to wipe out all cows with some kind of APPARATUS that I will call, THE BOVINATOR.
6pm-9pm: Vow never to eat dairy again.
9:30pm: Now that digestive system is completely empty, go to fridge to nosh. Hmmm……..leftover pizza sounds good….
Greg has been so fed up with me before that he’ll say things YOU JUST CAN’T TAKE BACK, like, “If you do that one more time, I’m never bringing you chamomile tea while you sit in the bathroom again,” or, “If you eat another slice of pizza, I’m not calling 911 when you think you’re dying later.”
So you’ll be proud to know, as he was proud to hear, that I turned to him after ten entire days off dairy and said, “I don’t want chocolate! I’d like a Twinkie, please! Everyone knows they don’t have dairy. They just have vanilla-flavored lard.”
“Well, that’s appetizing.”
“JUST DO IT, MAN.”
He came back with a 2-pack of them, and I dove in. Halfway through the first one things seemed a little suspicious. Don’t get me wrong, they tasted just as horribly and delightfully gross as I’d hoped, but there was something…..amiss. I checked the wrapper. Yep. About twelve ingredients down, after all the preservatives and lard and vanilla flavoring and what I assume must be some alternative form of embalming fluid, there it was: sweet dairy whey.
I threw the rest out. Aren’t ya’ll proud? I chucked those puppies.
I still consider myself emotionally dairy-free, since accidental dairy doesn’t count.