Controlling What Comes Out of My Bum
I used to be the lactose tolerant-est. I was raised to think there’s no point in eating a meal if you don’t follow it up with ice cream for dessert, that Dannon’s Fruit on the Bottom yogurt provided great surprises at every turn, and that chips simply don’t exist without nacho cheese. For the first 23 years of my life, I drank a glass of Nestle’s Quik for breakfast every morning, and to this day my dad still does, first stirring it loud enough to wake up everyone within a mile radius and then drinking it spoonful by spoonful.
During my last year of college, though, I cut out most of the ice cream so I could at least pretend to want to be healthy and started drinking soy milk because my family farm makes a pretty penny off soybean sales. And now I’m f-ig lactose intolerant. For a while I didn’t put two and two together, but now I recognise that the moment I put the smalled bite of /eks/ frozen yogurt in my mouth, I’m a burblinggurbling gas machine.
Sexy?
My co-worker who goes on week-long colon cleanses where she poos ten to twelve times per minute tells me that adults aren’t meant to process milk and that I should give it up, but I think that’s a load of horse hockey, and I’m now on a mission to make myself lactose tolerant again. I’ve been reading up on it, and apparently you can re-train your lower intestine to grow the right lactose-processing bacteria if you drink a little bit of milk several times a day. 1/4 cup at a time with food, they say.
I’m pretty pumped about the possibility of getting my life back, of not having to ask myself, Is this cup of dulce de leche Haagen-Dazs worth a day of nonstop flatulence? But while I’m working milk back into my diet little by little, I suggest that, um, you think twice about sniffing near my bum.
#1) at first, I thought this said “controlling what comes out of my brain”… but then I stopped and realized what/who I was reading
#2.) I have been lactose intolerant since birth (not that that stopped me from eating ice cream and cheese mind you).. lemme know how this goes for you and your sphincter.
#3.) Hell if I know why there can only be 5 people eligible to catch the football on one play. Smail would probably have a better guess, but until then… I blame Notre Dame
1. You already know what comes out of my brain, anyway: snark, bitching, and whining.
2. Maybe it’s better that you don’t know a life before intolerance. I pretty much want to break down and cry every time I think about the way I used to be able to sit down with an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s. But I think it’s awesome that you ignore your intolerance and fart it up.
3. I really like that you respond to my comments over here where you know I’ll see ‘em for sure. Of course I won’t return the favor, but I give you the option to have them mailed to you, and YOU DON’T APPRECIATE MY GIFT.
I wonder if this is possible to do with my pork allergy.
However, you’d think after my mom used all the pork products that the Barr’s gave us that I would be able to handle it. Not so much. Maybe it worked in reverse for me? Too much made me allergic….hmmm..
Pork allergy?! Does this mean you’re living a bacon-free life? I think Tracey would die if she knew this about you.
I wonder if there’s a similar acclimation to milk and pork. If so, we should try it together for a month. Locked in a room away from society, of course, so the rest of the world doesn’t have to suffer from the effects of our experiment.
I would like you to go on a speaking tour of college campuses, where you talk to incoming freshman who are thinking of abandoning their good midwestern eating habits for this hippie nonsense. You could be a walking cautionary tale! (Just like you always dreamed of!)
Good luck!
If it’s okay with you, I’d like to have the lecture encompass EVERYTHING that Midwesterners might abandon: fatty eating habits, “saving” themselves for marriage, saying hello to absolutely everyone they pass on the streets, not wearing shoes anywhere, etc.
And I’ll pass out pins that say “What would your mom say?” so they can remember where they come from every time the temptation to drink soymilk comes along.
I have a friend who is lactose intolerant, and she takes certain pills right before she eats ice cream, or pizza, or something else that she just can’t live without. And these pills help her become lactose tolerant again. She’s VERY lactose intolerant–actually gets sick and throws up if she has a bowl of ice cream. I think they’re called Lactaids? Something like that. Might want to give it a try if that training of your intestines doesn’t work out.
Maaaaaaaan, I already have enough crap to lug around in my purse without having to remember some milk pills. I want to be normal, dammit! I know that YOU wouldn’t know anything about this, with your perfect health and your trips to Paris, where even the lactose intolerantest suddenly find themselves gulping gallons of chocolate milk gas-free and smoking fine cigarettes from outrageously long holders on restaurant patios on every corner. Assholes.
Oh, wait, wait. I just remembered that you’re actually T-Dobs and not other-Tina-who-is-also-from-Ohio-but-is-spending-the-summer-in-Paris. Okay, let’s change this comment a little bit, then.
How about: I know that YOU wouldn’t know anything about this, with your perfect health and your . . . perfect fiancee who will fill you up with tons of babies that you’ll take to kidspace and use the basically-non-functioning bottle warmer to feed gallons of warm milk to because they naturally won’t be lactose intolerant, either. Assholes.
Much better.
You’re right. Much better.
Actually just kidding.. he’s my husband now, not fiance. That would make it much better!
Okay, I just read this because you linked to it and find it hilarious. Plus I’m honored to see that you finally gave me a hyphenated name.
Oh, boy, it’s going to be fun to continue to refer to you by that hyphenated name until the end of time. The Paris part is going to start getting a little weird after three years or so, though.
I’m trying to give up on food altogether.
So how’s that working out for ya?
You should talk to my arch-nemesis, Leigh. She’s currently working on an anorexia project called AnorSEXYa that involves her getting skinny and therefore hotter and therefore more likely to make her ex-boyfriend jealous.
RAH REPLIED IN THE WRONG PLACE SEE BELOW RAH.
I wish my skinniness made me hotter and therefore more likely to make a boyfriend. I feel like I’ve got an AnorHEXia on me or something.
dairy is the main staple of my diet, you can have some of my bacteria
That’s so hot! How will you transfer it to me–orally or anally?