World, I’m warning you: I am now gluten free. So if you see me, walk the other direction. You will thank me later.
Then again, I probably won’t see you. Chances are, I’ll be squinting at a food ingredients label or worse, using my iPhone’s magnifying feature to do the work for me. You will see my facial features curl in disappointment when I run across the words “wheat,” “barley,” “rye” or an emoji of a crying man holding an empty beer mug.
Or maybe I’ll be staring at a contraption on my wrist, joyful in knowing that I just walked 11 steps from the hotel’s front desk to the elevator, and I am that much closer to whatever daily step goal I have set for myself. Incidentally, if you move to the back of the elevator upon entering, it’s an additional two steps, maybe three depending on your foot size and the elevator’s dimensions.
Yes, I have become the most annoying person at the party. The one who can steer a dinner host’s menu in a completely different direction with six words: “By the way, I’m gluten-free.”
It’s uncomfortable enough having to ask everyone their vaccination status before making plans. Now, when accepting a party invite, I must let the host couple know that, even though they invited 12 people over for dinner, they are really cooking for one: me.
I disguise my new eating regimen by offering to bring an appetizer, supplementing it with, “You know, until I started on this new health kick, I didn’t realize there were so many gluten-free options out there.”
Yeah, like a spinach bread bowl, featuring gluten-free bread, with the consistency of taffy. Grab a plate everyone; your inflammation will thank you later.
Gluten Free Beer? What’s the Point?
My gluten-free experiment is the result of ongoing back and hip pain that has left me unable to perform most of my favorite activities. Ironically, one of those activities, visiting microbreweries, is now off the list since beer contains gluten. Lots of gluten. Yes, there are some gluten-free brews out there; but most taste like a slice of gluten-free bread was left floating in the glass the night before.
A relative swore eliminating gluten from his diet cured his back pain. My doctor told me to give it a whirl. I’m now on day 14 and, despite my moaning, I am feeling a difference. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. Wait, of course it’s wishful thinking; because right now, I’m wishing for a big plate of pasta.
The step-counting fetish is entirely self-produced. Tracking my daily paces is, I guess, another way of convincing myself I have a new, healthier body. I have vowed, with some success, not to constantly check for updates. Step counters can be just as annoying as new parents with a baby monitor. You could be telling them a story about ANYTHING — maybe the fact that you were just selected to be the next civilian in space — and they would suddenly hold up a finger and yell, “SSSHHH!” Silenced, you watch their ears perk up like a dog’s upon hearing a can opener and then, after realizing the sound was static and not their precious infant, lower their finger and say, “Sorry about that. What were you say…SSSHHH!”
Step Counters and New Parents. There is no difference
I may have been guilty of that behavior a time or two when my kids were born. Of course, our baby monitor could only detect audio, as opposed to today’s models, equipped with more cameras than one would find on a movie set. Today every sleeping baby is the subject of a reality show entitled, “Relax. I Was Merely Sighing.”
So, I apologize for my rudeness. And my picky eating habits. But give the gluten-free thing a try if, like me, you are out of answers for what ails your body.
I’m off to the grocery store to stock up on more foods adorned with the “GF” symbol.
It’s 6,700 steps. I am so stoked!
