Quitting Gluten: The 5 Stages Of Grief
People quit gluten for various reasons, including serious digestive disorders, lack of energy, desire for weight loss, and the urge to imitate a celebrity. All of these reasons are valid (I did it because of a cookbook) but the fact remains that quitting gluten is a terrible thing that will induce a period of mourning. Here are the five stages of gluten-free grief.
“I can do this!” you say as you eat your fruits and vegetables. “I can definitely do this!” you say the first time you bite into a gluten-free cookie. “Oh, shit, I am fucking DOING THIS!” you say as you spread some sort of inoffensive organic nut butter on gluten-free bread. “This is so easy!” you tell all your friends as they nod and cast side glances at each other.
“Where the fuck is my fucking white bread?” you scream a couple of days after quitting gluten. As you shove a fork deep into the heart of the Cheesecake Factory waiter who just kindly directed your attention to their Skinnylicious (TM) menu (which offers a plethora of health-friendly options!) you feel nothing but envy as you watch him squirm, scream, and finally shudder into Death’s cold embrace. “TAKE ME WITH YOU!” you want to say, but he is dead, so instead you eat some asparagus.
Bakeries make you sad. You go to Panera and assassinate the head baker with a spork, but it does you no good. You’re still just depressed.
Well, fuckity fuck, you want to murder even more chain restaurant staffers, but the truth is you’re starting to feel better. Your tummy is healing up, your ass isn’t exploding in horrific ways on the daily, and your skin looks inexplicably great. Also you have more energy, which is useful, because you’re still enraged.
You feel fuckin’ great! Quitting gluten has changed your life! And now you must TELL EVERYONE, so you do, repeatedly, on Facebook and Twitter and in person. Soon you have zero friends, but you are slimmer, more alert, and happier than you’ve been in years. You find fellow gluten-free individuals and start a cult devoted to restaurants that advertise themselves as “GF.” You are joyful. You are loved. You are well.
Then you watch this video, and quiver with longing, and it all goes to hell.