Bread was my life

I was reading posts this last week, well I read them on almost a daily basis and read this one by Mel of Stirrup Queens during her weekly Roundup, and it seemed to trigger me. 

The question was: Which favorite food would you never eat again if you were told you had to give it up? You couldn’t cheat and name something you didn’t really love. You had to take one of your favorites and say goodbye forever.

Sadly, this isn't a hypothetical question for me anymore.

For me it is Bread: toast, sandwiches...there are many others, but this one seems to always float back to the top of the puddle of tears.

In fact even reading the question brought back memories from the schoolyard of who you'd rescue from a sinking ship, your mom, dad or brother...and I could never answer the question, as it always sent me into a spiral of sadness and despair trying to figure out how I could save them all...

I have found my list to be extensive and at times VERY HEAVY. Laden with sadness and restrictions and constant thinking how to make situations work.

This is not a foreign landscape for me, but as of the last almost year, my trek has become almost vertical in its scale. Becoming vegetarian at 16 was new territory, then vegan at 42, then, vegan, gluten-free and anti-inflammatory/no nightshades at 52 has definitely been the hardest.

I have always been a person who isn't comfortable at ALL with people making a fuss over MY food choices. I will agree to go anywhere when dining with family or friends. Always navigating the menu to not make it a big deal and remind myself that I am there for the company not the food.

The Barren and I have worked hard on finding something in many of our favorite locations, so that he can on a whim bring home something or we can have a date out out. He is BEYOND graceful at always trying to find someplace new when we go on adventures to make sure I can fill my belly with something.

But I miss many foods: I miss summer tomatoes and grilled eggplant and bell peppers. I miss not being afraid of being in pain over a simple food choice. I miss the culture that is food...

*I am having a small pity party*

At my last infusion my nurse asked me if I would like any snacks while I sat and waited for my IV to finish, and I smiled and said no thank you. She then realized that I couldn't, and said I was so strong.

This made me feel uncomfortable, it seemed like she picked the wrong words.

I am a rule follower, my doctor laughed at the idea that my vice is a meal with white rice or a white potato in a soup.

Sometimes I feel the weight of having to make all these choices every day.

So my pick to the question is bread....I have tried A LOT of the varieties available.

I have even been known to go to other cities to find a loaf of vegan gluten free bread, 

so see if it tastes okay.

Only one bakery (about an hour away) made one I liked, but sadly, they just shuttered their store because of increasing costs.

Most of the commercially produced bread has eggs or leaves a bitter after taste from sorghum maybe?

So I am left without cinnamon toast as a comfort food.

Mind you, I am a creative woman, and 

I have started making a stack of new recipes...but frankly it is becoming exhausting.

I think I foreshadowed this happening when my Mama needed to find soy milk when I stopped breastfeeding and it was nearly impossible. So they just gave me regular milk and I had a constant stuffy nose and tummy aches pretty much until I went vegan! 

So I am creating a new lifestyle, a new fussy way of eating/living.

I don't have to like it, I just have to eventually accept it.

In many ways this question is very much like infertility. What would you give up even though you loved the idea of it....sigh

What would you pick?