Steak Pizza-Pizzeria Style
In shackles and dairy restraints I stood, head hung low as a jury of my peers found me guilty on all 4 counts of gastrointestinal assault. Found guilty of violating the non-dairy laws I was cast off to face the fury of a privy prison. To get a better understanding I must go back 5 years when the law of this land changed no longer allowing the free flow of eggs, milk, cheese or products which contain them such as chocolate and butter and gravy, all the things that really count in life. It all began when I turned thirty years old and blew out the candles on my lactose-free cake served with tofu ice cream. It was then explained to me that my wish for dairy wasn’t granted and I’d have to spend the rest of my life in dairy free damnation. Tears welled up in my eyes. “You must not cry over spilled milk.” he said. “Now is the time to suck it up and be a woman. You must reject every creamy goodness on earth.” I took this sour pill not fully understanding what changes lay ahead. But I’d learn, boy would I learn.
Coffee with a friend is a favorite past time of mine unless that friend serves half and half. Newly sentenced to a life without dairy I didn’t think before pouring in the cream. Years later I remember the quarter size hives that attacked my body leading to a brief period of public nudity as I attempted to scratch the ones on my back. When talking to that friend on the phone I said:
Me: That wasn’t non-dairy creamer was it?
Jen: No.
Me: Why did you try to kill me?
Jen: (Explosion of laughter) Oops!
It would take several more incidents minus nudity before I got the hang of asking about dairy content and even longer before I found my friend Mr. Enzyme. Lactade and I are thick as thieves but sometimes our bond isn’t strong enough to ward off the consequences of breaking dairy laws. Unlike a good officer of law Montezuma will have his revenge and I will suffer greatly. Being the rebel I am I’ve tested Monty’s patients but now I stand before judge and jury being held accountable for my dairy infractions and reactions.
Gut: Why have you done this thing and actually sinned against us?
Me: It was one slice of pizza. I didn’t think….
Gut: Exactly, you didn’t think and now punishment must be handed down. What do you have to say for yourself?
Me: I’m not a habitual offender, please go easy on me.
Lower Intestine yells: LIAR! She’s a filthy liar!
Gut: Lower Intestine what do you mean?
Lower Intestine: I saw you. I saw you go down the ice cream isle and look at the Praline Pecan. (The court room gasps)
Gut: Austin, is this true?
Me: I was there briefly. I was lost and wandered down the ice cream isle.
Lower Intestine: LIAR! She’s a filthy liar! I have suffered; my God I have suffered because of you and for what? Because you can’t keep your hands off the damn spoon. If it’s not butter its chocolate and don’t give me that crap about you have PMS. What about me? What… about… me?!!!!! The cramping, turning over in the night, losing all that is within me and for what? For your taste buds to enjoy a bit of chocolate. You sicken me. Selfish bastard you sicken me.
Me: I’m sick. I need help. Please, I throw myself on the mercy of this court.
Lower Intestine: Mercy. There is no such thing as mercy. You’ve shown us none you no good low down……
Me: Please. I beg of you, give me another chance.
Gut: SILENCE! SILENCE your insolence. We hereby sentence you to thirty years in Porcelain Hospital for the Dairy Insane.
Me: What about rehab? Can anything be done for me? Surely science has come up with a solution to this?
Gut: SILENCE!
Lower Intestine: Throw the book at her Gut. She’s put us through enough. The no good low down ……
Whimpering gives way to full weeping as the sentence was handed down. The life I thought I could lead with an occasional dairy product came to a rapid end. Bound and shackled I was lead away to a cell where I met my cell mate Charmin aka Triple Roll. She looked at me and said, “It’s you and me now kid. At least you didn’t get John Wayne Tissue on the other cell block.” “Why do they call her John Wayne Tissue?” “Cause she’s rough and tough and don’t take shit off nobody.”
No matter how much I cry I won’t be set free like that slut Paris Hilton. No matter how much I protest I won’t get off with just a fine like that couldn’t-drive-a-straight-line-to-save-her-life-if-she-were-drunk-or-dry Lindsey Lohan. No, there is no one that will come to my rescue. I must serve my life sentence and take responsibility as the lactose intolerant adult I’ve come to be. This is what it’s all about, taking punishment like a woman. I must not cry over spilled milk. Oh God, I miss milk.
Joan of Arc
Lactose Intolerance: My Memoirs
Tuesday, July 10, 2007-7:29
I am sitting her laughing so loud my office mates are wondering what is going on. Tears are rolling down my face.
I would be the gal in the cell next to yours. Like Paris Hilton, I had a brief moment of reprieve. It was called pregnancy. For some reason when I was pregnant, I could tolerate milk. I LIVED on milk. No calcium supplements for me. I had milk at every meal, chocolate milk for snack, ice cream every single day, and cheese on everything (hmm, maybe that explains the 70 pounds I gained!). The moment I delivered it was back to the chain gang. Not only did I suffer, but my daughter whom I nursed would suffer horribly too. It’s one thing to sentence yourself to a night with the porcelain princess, but quite another to do it with a screaming, colicky baby beside you.
So, I’ll toast you with some lactaid ice cream. Oh, and pass the charmin please!
.
.
.
It is a sickness isn’t it? A sickness that gets rubbed in my face every time the ice cream truck rolls down my street with his stupid music horn.
I’m afraid you’ll have to get your own Big Bertha (Charmin). She’s too busy protecting me from John Wayne. They fought the other day but Charmin is super absorbent and took the blows. For now I still belong to Charmin but I know John Wayne is after me in this lactose free prison. It’s a matter of time. Triple Roll will come to her end and I’ll be John Wayne’s bitch. I fear it. Oh how I fear it.
Austin