Eat the Rich

Do I miss some foods I can't eat anymore without getting sick? Sure, but that's not what really bothers me. What bothers me is being excluded from a huge portion of human social life of which food is a crucial component. What bothers me is the stress and social stigma of trying to figure out what I can safely eat. What bothers me is the amount of extra work and cost that is required of me to identify, obtain, and prepare safe foods. What bothers me is people treating my needs like a nuisance, as though I chose to be like this - as though their brief inconvenience to check an ingredients list is unreasonable, when I deal with this every day of my life forever.

I don't miss the food that much. I miss not having to worry about what I eat. I miss freedom. I miss when trying new foods and new restaurants was fun instead of a minefield. I miss not having to plan my entire life around the need for safe foods.

This.

It took me a long, long time to identify the limits of my unsafe food web. I'm finally in a place now where I'm not constantly identifying problem foods.

I miss the foods I can't eat, sure, but that is such a mild problem compared to the Ongoing, Systemic, and Overwhelming requirement to vett every single item that I want to invest for every single meal or snack for the rest of my life EVEN IF THEY'VE BEEN PREVIOUSLY VETTED AS SAFE because recipes change whenever they want and there are no warnings about that.

My current aggravation is due to the fact that I live in small town middle america, my specialty foods are being purged from my grocery store and not restocked because if you can eat normal macaroni noodles, you're not going to pay three times as much for grain free macaroni and if I'm the only one buying grain free macaroni, they're not going to keep that in stock.

Despite every attempt at the contrary I now have a monthly grocery cart from Amazon. Because I can't get staples like noodles locally.

I have a bento box that I prep a meal in and take with me when I leave the house. Are we going to be out long enough to need it? I don't know, but I can't stop at a Subway and get a sandwich if we are out long enough. I can go hungry.

I cannot buy prepared foods. They are full of unsafe foods unsafe wrappings unsafe cleaners on the machines and utensils used to make them.

"do you want a piece of--"

No. I appreciate you asking but unless you're handing me an orange or a banana that I can peel, I can't eat it.

Preparing food must happen from scratch. No sauces no soups no bases no mixed anythings.

Traveling requires that I bring all my food (already prepared) or have access to both a kitchen and a grocery store AND time to use both AND space to keep the results.

I can't get on a cruise ship. I can't take an overseas flight.

I can't even buy butter.

I don't care about the foods I'm not supposed to eat. I'm exhausted by keeping track of the ones I can.

imagine there was a man in the story who went around giving speeches about the importance of the lottery as a tradition. He said the casualties were unfortunate, but also an inevitable price of freedom. Imagine he treated those who sought to end the senseless cycle of violence with condescension and derision, calling them idiotic, naïve, and diseased.

yet when that man was selected for the lottery and stoned to death, everyone mourned him and said how unfair it was that a bright young family man should die so soon. And when people pointed out that this man was killed by a system he adamantly defended and worked to perpetuate, they lost their jobs and were shunned from the community as insensitive and monstrous.

I love that Americans are known for complimenting strangers. I love that we fry everything, and that we do it well. I love 12-foot-high plastic Halloween skeletons in people’s yards and tacky Christmas lights that stay up too long. I love that we are an unabashedly goofy people.

I love bluegrass music. I love stepping. I love that there are always folklorico dancers in my town’s Mardi Gras parade. I love that my town has a Mardi Gras parade, even though most people here aren’t Catholic or French and didn’t grow up with any kind of Carnivale tradition. I love that if "Livin On A Prayer" comes on a pizzeria, at least one person at each table won't be able to stop themselves from singing along. I love that the middle school gym shakes to the rafters when families cheer for THEIR baby finishing eighth grade and that they bring balloons and bouquets and flower garlands to celebrate.

I love the 80 year old couple at our local No Kings protest. I love all the little kids there with their families, too. I love the brass band that always shows up at protests here and plays old union songs and gospel music. I cry like a damn baby every time I hear “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing.”

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That’s the beauty of family. We already know.

no getting up. no looking at the flag.