This was supposed to be my big Dia de Los Muertos year! I’d been searching for the right dress for years with no luck. It had to be long, black, and ripe for accouterments. I had a vision of my outfit and I planned to bring it to fruition.
Then my IBS decided to remind me who was in charge. Id started feeling bad earlier in the week and immediately searched my food diary to see where I went wrong. I found nothing.
Was this a case of “too much of something and not enough of the other” which sometimes happens. I thought I had it under control but at 3:00 p.m. I knew I wouldn’t make it past my bedroom door. I was going to miss Day of the Dead 2019.
I lay in bed, not too far from the bathroom, and looked at my dress, waiting for me to slip into it.
It looked inviting but lonely.
And I was lonely. I was tired of missing my friends, missing the fun, and missing my life. I was tired of the constant game of hide and seek: searching for the hidden triggers in foods. I was tired of dropping out of my plans, like tonight, at the last minute. I felt like I was developing a reputation as a no-show, someone who isn’t true to her word. I didn’t want to be that person.
This year I have been.
But my friends still love me and know of this new struggle. They forgive me and keep inviting me to the next event. I am unchanged to them and so is my rep, although it’s taken a beating.
High fructose corn syrup turned out to be the trigger. I’d purchased some ketchup for my homemade fries and didn’t read the ingredients. Why? Because I thought ketchup was made from tomatoes, sugar and a bit of salt. Now I know better. And I’ll read better. And I’ll buy some new ketchup without HFCS and I’ll enjoy my fries again.
I’m supposed to create an altar to my beloved dead relatives. Maybe I also need an alter to my beloved culinary life.
What do you think?