Paper, Squared

I've been dairy-free for two weeks. It sucks. I love cheese. All cheese. Any cheese. I also love whipped cream and ice cream and butter. Oh, do I love butter.

I'm not an optimist. I am not saying, "Oh, but I can still eat eggs! And wheat!" I don't care. I want cheese.

It actually hasn't been as bad as I thought. But as someone who never had to worry about what she ate, having to read every label obsessively gets a bit tiring.

"Why must you torture yourself thusly?" you may be asking.

Remember the whole gall bladder issue/non-issue? So, I never really got better. And in fact, at points, got a lot worse. As I wait for various tests and procedures to tell me what may or may not be wrong with me, my gastro doc has recommended I cut out dairy and see how I feel.

So far? I feel crappy without it, but feel even CRAPPIER with it. Yay?

(Actually, yesterday and today have shown a marked improvement. I even skipped my stomach meds today.)

On Wednesday I will have a camera shoved down my throat to check my upper GI for problems. Then a (one hopes) totally separate camera will enter from the opposite end to check the lower GI section. I'm looking forward to coming home afterwards and catching up on Grimm episodes and drinking ginger ale. Or clutching my midsection and groaning piteously. You know, whichever.