My Glutenous Gluten-less Life

(See what I did there ^^?)

About two months ago, I came upon a startling revelation: I should not be eating gluten. Now, I went through the five phases of mourning very slowly and painfully (and repeated a few stages). It led me to where I am currently. Full and happy.

The first phase: Denial

There’s no way that God hates me that much. There’s no way he could EVER put me on this earth to never enjoy pasta. Chinese food. Toast with butter. Kentucky Fried Chicken (and pretty much everything else that’s fried…). Cupcakes. Muffins. Cookies. Beer. Pasta (that’s repeated for effect). He loves me- He told me so! It’s not the above foods making me feel awful, it’s the vegetables! Okay. So I guess it’s not the vegetables. Maybe it is the gluten.

The second phase: Anger

WHY DO YOU HATE ME GOD?! I hate everyone! I hate all food! I’m just going to quit eating everything! Dairy included! (This is retrospect, cheese, please don’t think I meant it.) My body sucks! Stupid autoimmune illness! Stupid digestive system! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Damn you all! Damn you wheat for sucking me into your poisonous yumminess! Damn you processed foods for putting gluten in everything! All of you!

The third stage: Bargaining

I’m sorry, God, I didn’t mean it. I love you. You’ve given me everything. I’m sorry body, I didn’t mean it. I will start running every single day if you would just let me eat the wheat. Please? Come on- I wanted to visit Italy someday. And what about that Mediterranean diet I’ve been reading about? And cheese. I swear I didn’t mean it.

The fourth stage: Depression

Okay, so I kind of faked this stage. I wasn’t depressed, per se, it was more of a realization that hit me smack dab in the forehead while pleading with God to just allow pasta (and none of that corn crap). It went like this: I will have to take thyroid medication forever and my trip to Italy (when I get rich) will consist of me drinking olive oil straight out of the jar. I will never be ‘normal’. I will never be able to go to a Chinese buffet and gorge on coconut shrimp and crab rangoons. I will never be able to eat sushi with tempura. I will never be able to just walk into a restaurant and pick the yummiest thing on the menu. The realization hit me when I was mid-migraine after the great blooming onion incident (oh the blooming onions!) of 2015. So I shed a few salty tears, drank some water, and hiked up my unbuttoned jeans (again, due to the great blooming onion incident of 2015) along with my big girl panties (literally) and moved on to-

The fifth stage: Acceptance

Now, I’ve hit this stage before (the first time I realized that gluten was the culprit to many woes I had been facing) but this time it has to stick. I can’t afford to have aching joints, migraines galore, bloated insides, foggy brain, and complete and utter malevolent behavior (according to my students). I have to make the conscious choice to ask for the special menu, make adaptations of my favorite recipes, and get broiled seafood instead of fried. I need to learn to say no to foods that are not good for me. I will do what I have to for my body, not for my weight. I want to live to see my great grand babies, so this is a choice I must stick with. Miserable is no life for me. So- throughout these stages I have started eating different foods. I am learning how to enjoy whole foods and have started replacing the grain in my life. I’m going to leave you with my new favorite recipe:

Everything but the kitchen sink quinoa

2 cups cooked quinoa

2 tablespoons craisins

1 chopped avocado

1-2 cup chopped greens

¼ cup chopped cukes

2 chopped green onions

⅛ cup olive oil

⅛ cup limeade (I use organic because I buy it for my rum, see picture below)

1 teaspoon dijon mustard

1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

chopped basil

Salt, pepper, and whatever else I feel like adding in there (usually garlic powder)

Screen Shot 2015-06-22 at 8.52.50 AM

Feel free to add in anything you want, really. I’ve done olives instead of avocado, tomatoes when I have some, but just don’t add wheat. (Oh and the beer is my husband’s, he has no digestive issues whatsoever. But to us GF peeps: don’t drink the beer.)

Claire Pelletier

About Claire Pelletier

I'm 30. Boy am I 30. I have three children: Shelby (almost 8), Harper (3), and Aidan (1). I work full time as an English teacher, full time as a mom, part time as a wife, part time as a cook at a Diner (this is actually a paid position), and a per diem house cleaner. Basically, I do it all. Oh and I like to write (revert back to my full time teaching position). This life is crazy, people are even crazier, and online blogging has given me a voice. Some may think it's a loud and obnoxious voice, but I kind of like it. I do my best to write about things that interest people, mainly about myself. Sometimes I verge into the political land, but that place scares me, so I mostly write about every day things that make me laugh, cry, or scream. Thanks for reading!