Let the gluten-free be
Nobody should have to explain the choices they are forced to make through a pursuit of good health. Yet with today’s body-conscious society giving the ‘gluten-free diet’ its full attention, a defensive justification of my condition is almost a daily occurrence.
I feel every damaged villi of my coeliac-stomach wince each time a mention of the disorder is greeted with a bored eye-roll, mocking brow raise or sigh. I struggle not to take a hefty gluten-free bite at every piece of judgemental bait dangled before me, no matter how dripping with ignorance it is.
Coeliac disease is an autoimmune disorder that damages the villi of the small intestine, and prevents the absorption of nutrients from food. It can lead to devastating consequences such as infertility, osteoporosis, type 1 diabetes and thyroid disease. Simply put, the body attacks itself kamikaze-style each time a sufferer consumes gluten. There is no existent pharmaceutical cure for the disease, making a 100% gluten-free diet the only plausible treatment.
This is no small feat. This is an all-encapsulating, exhausting lifestyle change, which earns the simple reward of a functioning digestive system.
I was only diagnosed with the disease two years ago. As one of four children, I have never been a fussy eater and words like ‘gluten’ were certainly not a staple of dinner-time conversation. After eating a stupid quantity of (wheat-packed) cereal whilst working strange hours as a waitress, I started to get the all too real symptoms that anyone prone to dramatic stomach-upsets will know. By the time I was spending more time in the bathroom than in my bed, feeling totally empty of any nutrition and completely grey in the face, a panicked visit to the Doctor quickly explained everything.
My own reaction to giving up almost every comfort food I could think of for the sake of my health was just as disbelieving as my family’s.
A trip to the supermarket instantly transformed itself into an exercise in small-print packet reading. Once the necessary squint confirms that the chosen product will not render me poisoned, I can expect a staggering 242% average price-increase from gluten-filled equivalents waiting at checkout, by national statistics.
Eating out at restaurants now requires an intense in-house circle of trust to be formed between all levels of staff to ensure that contamination fears are taken seriously. I can recommend directing at the waiter a pleading facial expression whilst delivering a frank explanation of the potential (toilet-based) effects of his/her actions; a double-helix strategy I have unashamedly perfected.
Yet worst of all are social occasions, hosted by friends and family, which often result in misunderstandings as to which foods are in fact coeliac-friendly, leaving hosts feeling failed and guests awkward, through nobody’s fault at all.
Clearly, leading a gluten-free diet is extremely challenging. Still, those of us coerced into this restricted alimentation have somehow gained ourselves the cemented reputation of fussy-eater, out to inconvenience and complicate. Actress Jennifer Lawrence recently used her public voice to brand gluten-free as ‘the new cool eating disorder’, the ‘basically I don’t eat carbs’.
Meanwhile, the plethora of literature denying the existence of the condition altogether treats readers to such well-considered views as that of Roger Mason, in his article ‘Gluten-Free Insanity’. He states that ‘Coeliac disease, or gluten intolerance, is a widely promoted myth, a mania.. Talk to any of them, and you'll immediately see they are terminal obsessive-compulsive neurotics. That's right- they're all nuts!’
While I might admit to feeling slightly ‘nuts’ as I began writing this from my 4th horrific day of bedbound imprisonment – crime: consumption of thai dish conveniently laced with the inflicting protein – the disease certainly doesn’t feel like a ‘myth’.
Nor did I feel particularly ‘cool’ when my relentless fatigue and lack of energy was diagnosed as anaemia, a commonly resultant bi-product of coeliac disease.
I didn’t especially enjoy the recent exchange of an important job interview for an afternoon spent in the bathroom.
And that horrendous trip to hospital, to fix the intestinal-mess created by a drunken decision to eat a pizza?
Yeah, at that point, I felt seriously glamorous.
Amazingly, though expensive, today’s supply of gluten-free alternatives is entirely unrestricted. In the choices I make each day, I generally do not feel hard done by, limited or even bitter for my situation. I am able to cook with a huge array of ingredients and feel great for it. It is the assumptions attached to the lifestyle that make for a frustrating process.
Chiefly, the supposition that it is a choice. Sure, many do choose to cut gluten out without medical necessity, which is entirely within their individual right. However, coeliac disease is not a weight-loss regime or diet plan, and filling your trolley with gluten-free products will not make you healthier. The disorder doesn’t take a holiday - not even when there is birthday cake on offer - and a tasting a mouthful can be as harmful as eating an entire plate.
Food is such a huge part of our culture that perhaps social stigmas will always surround dietary ailments. However, keeping your opinion on another’s nutritional habits to yourself may just save them from dishing out their pre-prepared defence of the day. Why not let the gluten-free be?