I don't like lactose, and I won't tolerate it.

Like the rest of the world, I made a New Years' Resolution. I don't want to lose weight- I'm small enough- I just want to feel fit, so I made a resolution to do some sort of exercise every day. I have five very different workout DVDs and I got another Groupon for Dance Trance, so the hardest part will be to actually do the workout. So far, so good. I've exercised every day this year in some way.

In addition to exercising daily, I've decided to start treating my body better when it comes to food intake. For several years, my body has been outright rejecting dairy products. Milk, cheese, creams, chocolate. But I ignored it for such a long time, and have spent years with my stomach aching and me wishing I hadn't eaten that creamy, cheesy 4-cheese ravioli. 

Well, when it came time for me to do the Nutcracker last month, I decided once and for all, that I was done with dairy. Honestly, this decision was made mostly because I was nervous about looking and feeling bloated in a leotard on stage wearing a costume that showed off my midsection. But I did it. And it has been wonderful. 

I haven't been going to bed every night with horrible stomach pains, gas, and feeling sick. I haven't been terrified to go see a movie with friends after eating dinner.

At home, eating dairy-free is easy. Since I do most of the cooking, I have 100% control over what products go into the food I eat. I never feel cheated or resentful toward my body. The problem is when I go out. When I leave the safe and dairy-free nature of my house. 

Have you ever noticed how much dairy is in everything?? 

Everything, I tell you. 

I love my in-laws, but no, I can't eat the Green Pasta dish that used to be my absolute favorite. (I loved it so much, I'd get 3 or 4 helpings) (Then I would spend the rest of the evening in the restroom hating my life, my choices, and most regretfully, my body.) No, I can't dip my vegetables in the Ranch dressing like I want to. No, I can't eat the super tasty pesto hummus, because all of those things have dairy in some way. 

And I love going out to eat on Thursdays with our church friends for trivia. And I love going to Bible Study and to different holiday parties with our church friends. And, boy, do I love The Melting Pot.

But it's when I go out to eat that I feel most restricted. Even entrees that don't have cheese on top or a cream sauce, are most likely cooked in butter. And it's when I go out to eat that I feel most ostracized. I can't eat the chips and salsa at Las Trojas, because I can't be sure that the chips don't have any dairy. (Side note: most breads have dairy of some form- whether it's milk, butter or whey. Whey is a lactose-containing product made from milk). It makes it hard to order any food at a Mexican restaurant. Or an Italian restaurant. Another difficulty- any breaded food. Pancakes. Waffles. Cookies (even those without chocolate chips!). Muffins. Gravy.

I'm not complaining about being lactose intolerant. In fact, I'm doing the opposite. I finally feel comfortable in my skin. I finally feel like I can be honest and out in the open about it. I finally feel like I can go out to eat and not be tempted to get the 4-cheese ravioli (don't get me wrong- I still want the 4-cheese ravioli, but I won't get it).

I'm proud of myself for finally admitting to it, and finally putting an end to the pain and literal physical suffering I've been enduring for years. 

I miss dairy products, but I don't miss the discomfort and agony. And I don't miss the 3 pounds I've lost from not eating it.  I certainly don't miss the bloating and the embarrassment that comes when I'm gassy (you can only blame it on the grandma or dog so many times...).

Now that I'm really living and eating a lactose-free diet, I need to figure out if any of the lactase products out in the big world help me at all so I can enjoy three nights in Venice, Italy and a 9-night Mediterranean cruise without feeling left out of the world's tasty offerings (and the 24-hour ice cream bar). Good thing I have 164 days left before we leave for our trip. But who's counting?