Should You Really Eat What You Want?

Anyone who has a digestive disorder likely spends an obscene amount of time fixating on food.  You either spend your time trying to determine your triggers or finding a way to avoid these triggers.  Sometimes you just want to throw caution to the wind and eat corn on the cob on a work night! I heard from one blogger recently who loves theatre popcorn, but pays for it each time she eats it.  Like many of us, she still goes back for more, but laments her decision soon after the movie!

For me the issue is pizza.  I cut out frozen pizza about three years ago and have never missed it. However, I have been reluctant to put take-out pizza on my do not eat list.  Recently, I realized that I have no choice. After a horrible reaction that ended with magic bags, heating pads, digestive enzymes, ginger ale, Advil and the fetal position, I realized I never wanted to experience that again. For this reason, I was compelled to take drastic measures to keep my pizza longings at bay:

This beauty has been attached to the fridge for several weeks now and every time I look at it I pause.  It helps to remind me of my last reaction and boosts my self-control just a little.  I have learned the hard way that it really isn't worth the inevitable reaction.  This is not to say that I never deviate, because I most certainly do, but, some reactions are worse than others and often not worth testing the waters.

Field of Dreams indeed!

The season for corn on the cob is now well underway, therefore, as a brief tribute to that golden deliciousness I thought I would share some thoughts on the matter.  I fondly recall many summer evenings shucking corn on the back deck of my childhood home, the smell of it cooking, the butter and salt dripping down my chin and that first delightful bite.  This experience ranks as highly as fresh strawberry shortcake.

My husband is from Iowa, home to the Field of Dreams and one of the ultimate baseball movies of all time.

"If you build it, he will come" and "Is this heaven?  No, its Iowa."  One year my husband surprised me on Easter Sunday by stopping in Dyersville at Iowa's main attraction. Despite the fact that we had not hit corn season, it was pretty magical to be there.  My Dad was far more impressed with this quick roadtrip than any European adventure I have had, or ever will have.

Unfortunately, that is where the magic of corn ends for me.  Corn wreaks havoc on my body.  It is guaranteed that if I eat this, I will land on my porcelain throne in less than 30 minutes.

On summer nights I long to eat it, but only ever attempt it a maximum of once each summer.  On a long weekend.  With no plans.  With a toilet in very close proximity.  You only get burned once by an experience such as this.  That sweet, innocent-looking, unassuming corn.  Who would have ever thought that it could be so dangerous?   Explosions of flavour indeed!  Corn is such a reliable laxative that when I feel gassy or bunged up I will make a bowl of popcorn and then - hallelujah! - problem solved.  I do not find popcorn as potent as fresh corn, but it certainly does the trick.  

So, as you tuck into some of summer's finest, when it is uniquely acceptable to ingest copious amounts of butter and salt, I will be eating carrots.  Or celery, sans butter, thinking of the field of dreams.