"The Cheese Stands Alone..."

I always wondered why The Farmer and the Dell ended with the phrase, "the cheese stands alone." Was it Linburger? Was it waiting around for the right glass of wine? Perhaps someone couldn't eat it because they would then suffer hours and hours of horrible stomach cramps, diarrhea and nausea. (On second thought, maybe the reason as to why the cheese stands alone is better left unsaid).

Over the past few years, I've had an on-again, off-again relationship with ice-cream. With the exception of those glorious ten months when I was pregnant with Ella (okay, make that eight months- the first two were not glorious by any stretch), I haven't been able to eat so much as one bite of ice cream without dire consequences and lots of toilet paper, if you get my drift. I tried taking Lactaid pills and was frustrated that they had little to no impact. So I thought, well okay. I just can't eat ice cream. Probably better for me in the long-run. I moved on to sorbets, even though I continued to stare longingly at the pints of Ben and Jerry's at Kroger and reminisce. Those were the good ol' days.

Then one day- not long after my eventual split with ice cream- I went to Starbucks and ordered my usual tall, non-fat caramel macchiato and within minutes of drinking it, I was racing home to the bathroom, doubled over with stomach cramps. It seemed that milk was the next dairy item to be put on the "eat this only if you want to feel like you're dying" list. Yogurt eventually followed suit. I mourned the loss of my Chobani greek yogurts I used to eat every day.

Milk and ice cream were things I knew I could do without, however. I knew I could drink Lactaid, eat other refreshing cold desserts, and I could even say farewell to yogurts, but I clung desperately onto my cheese. I said (to my small intestines, I guess) you can take my ice cream, dammit, and you can take my milk and yogurt, but if you think I'm going to part ways with my beloved cheese, you've got another thing comin'. Of course, it's not like I can very well tell my small intestines to shape the eff up and start breaking down lactase again. But I tried. I willed it to happen. I ate my cheese hesitantly, cautiously, and with a dimming glimmer of hope as the cramps inevitably set in.

It's been one week without cheese. I feel so alone. No more lasagna, no more pizza, no cheese on sandwiches, no chips and queso, no macaroni and cheese....no cheese and wine....I'll stop the list there as I'm sinking into more and more of a depression. I'm aware that in the long run, this is a much healthier direction for me to go, but I don't wanna. {said in whiniest voice possible}. I'm kicking and screaming all the way.


"The cheese stands alone,
The cheese stands alone
I can't eat dairy-O
The cheese stands alone."