You and me, we go way back.
I've forgiven you for making me throw up on the bus (in front of all the cool kids) in the 3rd grade. I've forgiven you for making me throw up in the Frankfurt Airport (in front of the 12th grade boys who were part of my exchange) when I was 16. I've even forgiven you for making me throw up ALL OVER (my now) SH's car just a couple of short months after we started dating when he picked me up at the airport after coming home from Hawaii.
I haven't complained (much) about my (ever-growing) pooch. I've learned to blame my ribs for sticking out so that no matter how much I would work out (as if!) I still wouldn't have a model-flat belly. You aren't even my least favorite body part - not close (I'm talking to you thighs and upper arms!)
So why, oh why, dear stomach do you continue to bother me?
I get it. I have a thyroid disease so my digestive track doesn't always function properly. We can work through that. What I don't know if I can work through is this sneaking suspicion that I'm lactose intolerant. Why do I think that? Let's go through the symptoms which usually start about 1/2 hour after eating pizza or grilled cheese(at least this is when I notice this the most):
- Nausea (check)
- Cramps (check)
- Bloating (check)
- Gas (check)
- Diarrhea (check, sorry bloggy readers, TMI)
Are you just trying to get me to eat healthier? I can work with that. Want to make a deal? If I start to eat better overall will you allow me to indulge in my cheesy favorites every once in a while without giving me problems?
Please let me know as soon as possible because if I have to go to the doctor to get this diagnosed I have a feeling I'm not going to like the answer (I never like their answers) so lets try and be friends, k?
picture borrowed from dumbaaldum.org