Day ten of the exclusion diet and all I can think and dream about is food. It's not even food that I could have anyway; my mind is filled with images of pasta and burgers. Every single meal on this diet is so bland and boring. Even squid, which would usually be a tasty treat, is mediocre when all you can do with it is plop it on some rice (I usually have it on gluten free pasta). The george forman grill has been having a thorough workout since I can't be bothered to measure the oil I'd usually put in a pan like the diet booklet suggests, but cleaning the damn thing every day is not much fun, to say the least. I think if I have to munch rice krispies for breakfast again, I'll scream. Oh wait, that's what I've got for breakfast tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, ad infinitum. I just want something with a bit of flavour in it, is that too much to ask? Apparently it is.
I think I'd be less irate if this diet was actually helping. Despite surviving on the handful of foods I'm allowed, I'm still having stomach problems. This is because the majority of my IBS is caused by stress, and I simply can't get rid of all the stress in my life. I had a lovely sore stomach all through the night sunday into monday because my father decided to spend half an hour telling me how useless I was when I simply rang to wish him happy birthday. This morning, I had to run to the loo 5 times to make 'lemon sherberts' because he'd phoned the house. You can see a pattern emerging, can't you. In fact, the gastroenterologist told me to cut off all contact with him because he's making me ill. The point is, I'll never be completely free of problems. My insides are just too 'special'. So I'm starting to question why I have to go through this daft diet at all. At least I only have a few more days of the crap bit left before I can start re-introducing things. I think 'that time of the month' is going to hit this weekend, so the first thing I'll bring back will be wine.
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