The day before I embark on my g-free journey:
Eat toast. Lots and lots of toast.
Stuff face with glorious (clean!) pasta salad (and not-so-clean cheesecake) at a friend’s BBQ.
Examine contents of fridge. Pour myself glass of wine to prepare for weeks to come.
Sneak heaping bowl of said pasta salad as “last supper” of sorts.
Stare longingly at bowl of remaining pasta salad while preparing lunch.
Eat sandwich with g-free bread. Have flashback to eating baba’s homemade g-free bread. Verdict: Homemade FTW.
Wish I could have that pasta salad. Choke down strawberries and almond butter.
Make omelette with free-range eggs, zucchini, onions, peppers and cayenne pepper. OK, maybe this isn’t too bad.
Munchies hit. Stave them off with water/apple cider vinegar combo. Disgusting, but it works.
Hit the hay and dream about bread.
I kid, I kid. This really isn’t so bad. I’m used to g-free bread because of my baba, who had celiac disease and would make her “special” bread all the time. Other than bread, I don’t eat a lot of products with gluten. The hardest part is checking food labels for hidden sources of gluten or Googling things like “Does smoked gouda have gluten in it?”
I’m not sure if it’s the lack of gluten or my renewed motivation, but I’m feeling great this week — less sluggish, less tired and less bloated in the tummy. Hey, if I feel better and lose the belly pooch, I’ll be one happy camper this summer!