The Italian in me is crying. She has her fists raised to the sky, moaning "Why, God? Why?" The voice she is hearing probably isn't God though. It is saying, "Because up until recently, your large ass could have been mistaken for the broad side of a barn." I'm thinking God isn't quite that truthful.
Why the drama? Because today I discovered one more food I can't eat. Spaghetti. Angel hair, to be exact. I'm going to add it to the list, to include all pastas that are similiar: linguini, vermicelli, etc. etc. We had dinner at my parent's house tonight, and my mom made an amazing seafood dish with a light tomato and wine sauce that she served over angel hair. Shortly after finishing, I made my first trip to the bathroom. It was all angel hair that came up. Same with trip number two. The third time occurred on the way home, and it too was all angel hair. So. Enough of that. It was physically painful to have in my stomach. Once I finally got rid of it all, I was good to go.
Sorry you had to find out this way, Mom. I didn't want you upset while I was there. What is it they say? "It's not you, it's me." In this case, totally true.
Luckily, the Italian whiner inside can find solace in the fact that other pastas work out just fine. So bring it on, I'm ready.
No comments:
Post a Comment