“That Would Sound Good… If It Wouldn’t Destroy Me”: 9 Foods I Mourn in Real Time
The other night, my husband was making burgers for dinner; grilling up juicy patties, melting cheese, toasting buns—the whole Norman Rockwell spread. I looked at the plate and said, without thinking:
“A hamburger would sound good… if I didn’t know the bun would destroy me.”
And there it was: the perfect sentence to sum up life with food restrictions. So much sounds good—until your digestive system files a formal protest. In the spirit of public grief and gentle absurdity, here are a few classics I still dream about but can’t eat without risking gastrointestinal ruin, hives, or possibly transcendental rage.
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The Glorious, Evil Hamburger Bun
Soft. Squishy. Innocent-looking. Also: a vengeful gluten bomb waiting to detonate in my small intestine. -
Mac and Cheese
If comfort had a taste, it would be this. For me? Less comfort food, more wheat-laced dairy napalm. -
Garlic Bread
Bread is bad. Garlic bread is bad with flair. Like being punched in the stomach by someone in a tuxedo. -
Birthday Cake at a Party
There’s no polite way to decline without sounding dramatic:
“I’ll pass. If I eat that, I’ll be lying on the floor whispering to the ceiling fan.” -
Nachos
Cheese? No. Sour cream? No. Mystery meat? Definitely no.
Crunchy chips I can’t eat anyway? Sprinkle sadness and call it done. -
Croissants
What sounds great: a buttery, flaky pastry.
What sounds less great: explaining to a Parisian baker you’re allergic to everything they hold dear. -
Ice Cream Cones
Can I eat ice cream? No. Can I eat the cone? Also no.
Thanks for the edible sculpture of betrayal. -
Casseroles at a Potluck
The Food Restriction Olympics. Ingredients: unknown. Sauces: suspicious. Toppings: crunchy lies. -
Pizza
There’s gluten-free. There’s dairy-free. There’s nightshade-free.
But there is no joy in pizza made of cauliflower and sorrow.
Bonus: Every Holiday Meal Ever
There’s a moment at every gathering where someone turns and asks, “Oh… so what can you eat?”
And I just gesture to my plate like a magician unveiling… plain lettuce.
