I am allergic to gluten. My taste buds just writhed in pain as I wrote that. They're protesting to keep the Parisian pastry parade marching down my gullet. My taste buds want the constant stream of candy and Berko cupcakes to continue making its way into my mouth. And I tend to agree with them, except, except...my favorite pastries, sweets, and gluten filled products are making me sick.
Up until a month ago, I never suspected gluten was the culprit causing my anemia. But after doing some research, gluten started to seem like the bad guy. While I don't have any of the digestive problems that plague people with a gluten intolerance, the other symptoms I read about began to match up--unexplained anemia, weird skin rashes, anxiety, fatigue, and tingling in my feet. While these maladies could stem from a number of things, I knew something wasn't quite right. I couldn't be that tired from walking up a flight of stairs...my skin couldn't be that sensitive for no good reason...so I convinced the doctor to order gluten tests. She wasn't so convinced herself, but I proved that M.D. wrong (or rather, gluten did).
All three lab tests came back positive and just like that gluten is guilty. On the one hand, I'm happy I have an answer and can move forward with getting my body healthy. On the other hand--HOLY MOLY, I need to stop eating gluten! It's now been two weeks since I've confirmed gluten is the enemy and I haven't come any closer to making significant changes to my diet. I actually at three cupcakes on Friday. Three. It's possible I'm in denial. Very possible. No gluten means no croissants (real ones at least...) and that means serious business. I need to rally the strength to walk by a bakery without stopping (a new route to work is clearly in order) and get into the kitchen to start whipping up my own creations or pastry withdrawal is imminent. I can't imagine that would be very pretty. At least the gluten gods have enough sense to keep dairy safe. I can eat stinky, scrumptious French cheeses to my heart's content. Oh, and macarons too! Hallelujah!
Off to read David Lebovitz's gluten-free guide to Paris and perhaps cry into a bowl of Christmas jelly beans.
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