Weak Constitution

I made a rather upsetting discovery this week.
It all started with the bloating.  I felt really disgusting over the Fourth of July but chalked it up to a mysterious stomach flu that was making its way through Seattle and the derby community in general.  Actually, it probably really was the flu.  I felt like I'd been hit by a truck and it wasn't until I got to feeling better that I realized just how much it had taken out of me.  I got my strength back, but the bloating remained. 
I turned to the next obvious culprit:  PMS.  But my period came and went with no relief.  As time went on, nausua came through the door that bloating had opened.  This is very unusal for me.  Still, if I were the kind of person who paid a lot of attention to physical discomfort I wouldn't live the sort of life I do.  I am the captian of ignoring pain.  I actually allowed myself to believe that it was all the plyometrics from Cross Fit that was making me nausous.  If they make you feel nausous while you're doing them it just makes sense that they would make you feel nauous the rest of the time too, right?
It wasn't until last week when I actually threw up a little in my mouth at work that I began to suspect that something other than constitutional weakness and exercise might be to blame for my discomfort.  On a hunch, I bought a carton of almond milk at the store this week instead of cows milk.  My Monday morning started with a complete lack of symptoms before I fell prey to Cougar Gold Cheese out of a can.
I want to pause here in my story to expand a little on Cougar Gold.  It is hands down the best cheddar you will ever have the privlidge of consuming.  It's cultivated and sold by the students at Eastern Washington University.  Yes - it's weird that they package it in a can.  No, that doesn't prevent me from consuming vast quantities of it whenever possible.  It has a wonderful depth of flavor without the sharp tang of large batch cheddar.  If it's been sitting in the can awhile it also marbles with little crunchies.  DELICIOUS.
The remainder of my day was spent feeling pukey, bloated, and gassey with a fair amount of stomach pain.
Please allow me a moment to wax poetic about my great love of dairy products.  This year I discovered organic field butter.  I have no idea why it's so much better than other butter but moments have existed where I've removed it from the fridge just to smell it and then put it back.  I'm sure there's crack in it.  Then there are my longtime friends, Mac & Cheese.  Mac & Cheese were there for me after my long runs in the days of marathon training, they soak up my beer during happy hour, they hang around for breakfast and don't grumble about late night visits.  They're crunchy or spicy or gooey or fried depending on nothing more than my own personal whims.  No soy product could ever take its place.
It's not hard to see that there's an emotional connection here that defies logic.  Last night I opened the fridge to see my favorite greek yogut sitting there in mass (it was on sale this week), tried to will myself to throw it away and began to cry instead.  There's a very reasonable person sitting in my head right now who's shaking herself off and saying, "wait a minute.  Seriously?  This?  This upsets you?  Lactose intolerance is what we call a first world problem my friend.  You're fine.  You don't even know how bad this is yet.  You're heard of Lactaid, right?  Jesus Christ woman, settle down."
But for the moment, I'm afraid we're in for the full on grieving process.  RIP diary.  R.  I.  P.
<posted on 8.2.12>