Thanksgiving pie crust

With whipped cream and a little sea salt.

Tastes like heaven.

Feels like hell.

I forget that I cannot eat wheat without horrible consequences.

Thanksgiving eve; the war between “test pie 1” and my gut began. 

Abdominal epilepsy.

“That’s not a thing..is it?”

Yes.

If it’s so painful, why do I forget?

I googled this and read a few articles about addiction,sadness, stress, brain neurology and food as comfort.

I have been under stress lately with real estate dealings and prepping for Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving reminds me of the death of one of my beloved step parents. We had Thanksgiving dinner at the hospital outside of ICU. The extreme food avoidance takes its toll on me. Every meal and menu is a minefield.

It’s not stupidity.

It’s stress and grief.

Good grief. By Jove, I think we’ve figured it out…but how to prevent this in the future?…

I told Mr. W “I need a sticker on food like the old ‘Mr. Yuk’ stickers we put on poison as kids.

I thought of Nemo, whose father would chide him and added my own twist: 

“You think you can eat these things, Nemo, but you CAN’T, you just CAN’T!”