My hellish cheese-free week starts off with a slight disadvantage because I hadn’t managed all the grocery shopping and prep work I envisioned when deciding to go a week without dairy (i.e. an entire seven days without cheese glorious cheese…did I mention no cheese???). George and I decide spend Sunday at Disneyland, and after a fun filled day in the sun at the Happiest Place on Earth my original plan of grocery shopping and making dinner turns into a “How do you feel about ordering Thai food?” conversation in the car. To my credit, there was no dairy in the Pad Thai, Spicy Rice, or egg rolls, so come next Sunday night I will be planning a full fledged dairy extravaganza! So it begins…
Monday: I’m finding dairy in all sorts of unexpected places, including the package of instant oatmeal I was planning on inhaling at work. I resist the urge to interrogate the woman at the café at my building on their oatmeal preparation. She tells me they don’t use milk, I take it on faith that she’s telling the truth. Which brings me to my first discovery: Not only do you have to investigate every label for traces of something you are trying to avoid, but you also have to trust complete strangers that they are being honest with you about your food prep. I never considered myself untrustworthy, but as the woman at the café was dishing out my oatmeal I found myself eyeballing the product with intense scrutiny. She wouldn’t lie to me about that…WOULD SHE?
Tuesday: I really miss cheese. And ice cream.
Wednesday: Second unexpected discovery - my temporary parting with said cheese and ice cream seem to have created some extra room in my pants. Nice!
Thursday: I inadvertently come close to falling off the dairy wagon. I remove what I thought was a pork tamale made by George’s mom out of the microwave. When I pull back the husk I am greeted with the unmistakable ooze of cheesy goodness. “This is a cheese tamale!!!” I stare at it. It stares back, daring me to consume it. I sigh. I find George. I hand it over to him.
Friday: My skin is breaking out. What the hell? I thought going without dairy was supposed to improve your skin. I’m peeved. In retaliation for this I allow a modicum of dairy into my system at dinner in the guise of a fried zucchini blossom stuffed with a shrimp mousse. I feel no regrets. I am a dairy rebel! (ok not really)
Saturday & Sunday: The thing I was least looking forward to in this challenge? Weekend breakfasts. How many of my favorite weekend breakfasts have dairy in them? Pretty much all. But I work around it. And Sunday night, I make The Pioneer Woman’s quesadilla with BBQ chicken and grilled pineapple.
Welcome back, cheese. I missed you. Let’s never be parted again, ok? OK.
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