Hate is a strong word. Perhaps too strong.
Inevitably, each of my kids picked up on the H-word when they were young. Then they proceeded to use it in every context: “I hate school”, “I hate dinner”, even “I hate you”. We did our best to nip this in the bud, but the word hate packs a punch, and delivering that punch is satisfying for those who speak it!
After cracking down on that word for three kids, I’m very hesitant to use it myself. So when I began looking for catch phrases to help illustrate the “Gluten Monster” I didn’t want to express myself with a such a strong word. So instead I typed “I ate gluten”, and what’s the logical progression from there (for a celiac like me)? It’s sickness, discomfort, pain, and then the emotional reaction to all of it: I hate gluten.
And truth be told, I really do hate gluten, and I think I’ve earned the right to. After 9 years of passing up delicious food, not eating food my friends and family are eating, going to parties where I can’t eat anything, and getting sick after I’ve been careful, I really do hate gluten and the effect it’s had on my life.
I can say that to you, my friends , but I don’t want to scream it to the world because I don’t want to sound bitter, and really I’m not bitter. But every once in a while, after hours of stomach pains, cramps, and other unspeakable discomforts I really do feel a hatred
swelling in me that matches my physical discomfort. It’s not a hatred, or even anger towards the people who grew the wheat, the people who packaged, it, the people who served it, or the people who ate it without getting sick. It’s aimed solely at the food itself; that protein found in wheat, rye and barley, you did this to me! I hate gluten!