I love food and drink. LOVE it I tell you. For those of you who don’t know what I mean, leave now because this won’t make any sense to you.
I love the search for a recipe. The gathering of ingredients. The symphony of sounds and smells that fill the air when bringing all of the parts together. I love walking thought the isle of the wine and reading the descriptions of each. Carefully pairing one with what I am cooking that night. Or better yet, having a favorite bottle and writing a menu around it. I love going out to dinner. Perusing the menu and patching together the perfect meal. I love food and drink.
Here’s the wrinkle, my stomach has autism. It can’t tell me what it wants. It throws regular tantrums. It is incapable of communicating in a calm manner. It hits. It punches. It ignores all attempts to soothe it. I hate my stomach. I am in the throws of a 3 week IBS flare. What does this mean? That I am in constant pain. I should be eating small meals of tolerable food. Only my autistic belly won’t be calmed by any of the usually measures.
I’ll admit, I did it to myself. I had a taco salad. THREE WEEKS AGO! Ok and I had a glass of wine yesterday. Oh and for dinner we had Indian food. It wasn’t spicy but it was all the things that I love. Lentils, chick peas, cauliflower, naan. All things I shouldn’t eat. Also I can’t have gluten or dairy….or coffee….or sugar….or fibrous greens…..or nuts unless finely chopped.
What does that leave? you ask.
NOT A WHOLE HELL OF A LOT!
My belly is a jerk….