Why gluten is like sex with your X.

It was a good day.  I’m loving life today and very confident.  It must be showing because I’ve had oogles of compliments today.  So, since I’m feeling great,  here’s that funny post I promised. 

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So soft, warm and moist. I cradle the supple gooey bits. The smell is amazing,  so wonderful I just want to bury my face in the warm pillows.  The texture is amazing,  soft yet flakey, airy yet dense, firm on the outside and so giving on the inside. The moister the better,  it  makes me drool with expectation. My jaw hands agape. I just can’t wait to dig  in  and devour every bit with eager abandon. 

And then I think of the cheesy buttery logs of glory.  The smell is intoxicating.  I want to devour every glorious delicious inch. Jusy the right amount of firmness, with that oh so wonderful coating.  I could eat millions of them in a lifetime,  it never gets old.  So delicious,  making every bit of my body feel warm and luscious.  Every cell of my body a twitter with excitement. 

Yet,  when the deed is done,  the reality sets in.  That was not a good idea.  I can’t erase that moment.  It sets in slowly,  creeping into my mind.  The horror of what I’ve just done.  I start to hold my belly,  roll over and close  my eyes. I fall asleep hoping that when I wake it’ll have just been a bad dream. Yet I know it’s not.  The morning will bring  a walk of shame,  the remnants of that bad choice will follow me for hours,  neigh days.  Hopefully not weeks.  How does one break up with such a blissful monster yet again? 

And that is how gluten is just like sex with your ex. An oh so wonderfully delicious yet horribly wrong idea. 

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