Sunday afternoon I attended a party. My Grandma turned 88. She's a great woman and I love her to pieces. I have been having bad dreams that she has died and it's kind of thrown me for a loop. I believe, with all my heart, that she will be here forever. While my brain knows that won't happen.
We had fun talking and laughing and seeing everyone.
And there was pizza. Yummy pizza with dairy.
So I had my 6 tiny squares and was stuffed because really, that's all I can eat any more. It was wonderful pizza with artichokes, green olives, fresh mushrooms and cheese. Then I had a cupcake for dessert. Ok, fine, I had 2.
Sunday night is when I realized that dairy is not my friend. Well, to be more specific, dairy is not a friend to my digestive tract. *sigh* I was bloated and gassy the rest of the night (just what you wanted to know about me, huh?). And to be honest, I still felt the effects of it yesterday.
So now the question is, what do I do with this information? I love dairy. I love cheese. I love that Greek yogurt. But do I love it more than I am willing to suffer the consequences? I think my answer is that for now I do. When I had issues with milk, I stopped drinking cold milk because that was the trigger. Then hot was warn milk also. Then I just stopped milk all together. At some point, I'll likely decide that eating my beloved cheese and yogurt just isn't worth it anymore. I've already all but given up on ice cream and milk, but I'll go down fighting for my cheese and yogurt.