Eat Me


When the doctor said IBS to me, I ran home and researched the hell out of it. Ok, that’s an exaggeration, I skimmed two websites. But I didn’t like what they said much, so I stopped. This thing sucks!

Just when I was finally getting more sophisticated with my eating, my gut has to pull me back to the slums of mediocre gastronomy from whence I came. I wouldn’t say I’m a fussy eater, it’s others who say that, it’s more like there’s way more I don’t eat than I do. The main ones are that I don’t eat seafood, salad or anything spicy. Nando’s lemon and herb dressing is too much for me. On a good day I can handle a bit of chorizo, but anything more complicated than that and I just about need the Fire Brigade to come and put my mouth out. My three favourite food groups are potato, cheese and alcohol and I’ve just been told I have to stop them all.

So last week I did something unheard of. I made my first ever salad. And what’s worse, I ate most of it, and I kind of even enjoyed it. Well, I didn’t spit any of it out.

Don’t ask me what a salad is doing hanging out on a cushion by the window.

Now just so you know, I will discuss what I discover about food and IBS, but this won’t be a blog of IBS recipes and dietry do’s and don’ts. I’m not that helpful. No, if I have pictures of food on here, it’s more likely to be because I’m playing around with my new camera. But fine, the salad had grass lettuce, cucumber, red onion, avocado, feta, olive oil and lemon. I’m sure you can figure it out for yourself. I think the only reason I like it is because it is topped with cheese, something I’m not supposed to eat.

Then the next night I made a (peeled) vegetable and salad wrap.

Vegetable wrap thing with green stuff

Although it still had cheese. And I’m not supposed to have wheat. I think.

My taste buds are late developers. Something in my mind equates a sophisticated palate with adulthood. If you can look at a menu and choose any dish at all, that to me is the definition of a grown up. I thought I was doing really well, I was really proud of myself, like a teenage boy who wears the bum fluff on his upper lip with the pride of a boy turning into a man, I was beginning to enjoy being able to move away from the kids menu and actually have a couple of dishes I could choose from in a restauarant. Throw in a choice from the specials board and I was practically European in my sophistication.

My bum fluff moment had come in my late twenties when I figured out I actually loved strawberries and could eat them without grimacing from the texture of the minuscule pips. I felt like giving up the epilady for a couple of weeks and letting my moustache grow back to signify my maturity to the rest of the world.

What’s worse now though is I’ve only recently started eating wholegrains and leaving the skin on when I roast vegetables, but now I’m told that I have to seek out food which is easy to digest, which is soluble, which will go straight through my system without having to do much work. Basically my gut is a lazy git. So no more whole grains, low GI, slow digesting, no, I’m back to white bread, peeled vegetables, sauces which aren’t rich, so my poor uncomplicated gut doesn’t have to do any work. My digestive system doesn’t understand I’m trying to acquire Michelin star taste buds. It wants to keep me in the Greasy Spoons.

Did I say this IBS stuff sucks? But I’m trying. Who wants a JD and coke?

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