OK, I get it, stomach. I get it. I can't eat dairy anymore. Or, to clarify, I cannot eat ice cream anymore. Apparently, I am now lactose intolerant--more specfically, ice cream intolerant. I don't know if I can tolerate being ice cream intolerant! I thought it was just a weird coinky-dink that everytime I ate ice cream I ended up clutching my torso, rocking back and forth and asking God to stop testing me. I don't want to blame you, ice cream, I really don't. But you hurt me. You really do. Being back in Vermillion and back in a state where Dairy Queen is a local tradition, I biked to DQ for some tasty ooey-gooey deliciousness last night, something I hadn't done in awhile.
And I paid for it. Dearly.
I am hereby declaring that I cannot and will not eat ice cream anymore. At least not the kind made with milk.
And now I am stuck with soy ice cream. It tastes like, well, soybeans. You betcha.
Goodbye, DQ. We've had a good run. Although I still love the Indigo Girls song, because I am pretty sure I have been drunk and mean down at the Dairy Queen.
Why is it that it is ice cream that my stomach has declared war on? Why couldn't it have been canned mushrooms or something?
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