My name is Ellee Long, and there is a 63% chance that I’m allergic to you.
Nothing personal.
I grew up knowing I had around 25-27 different food allergies. There’s a range because some foods don’t have tests, but I reacted to them. I was a very, very plain eater.
You know that idiot that orders the same thing no matter where they go? Yup, that’s me.
I knew what was safe, so I just stuck to it. Yeah, it was annoying asking for everything on the side unless there was an alergen not listed on the menu. Good lord, was it annoying being seen as just a bratty picky eater who was just there to make the waiter’s life hard. Sorry, lady, I didn’t WANT to send back the sandwich, but I asked for no mayo because I’m allergic to eggs.
If you couldn’t tell, it got exhausting, and I got a complex about eating. Actually,  now that I think of it, I’ve always had a weird and turbulent relation with food. I mean, nothing was as both equally amusing and annoying than to shut down every dietician and nutritionist because half of the foods on their shopping list would make me vom up my guts.
I think the one chick still believes that I was faking my cucumber and celery allergies. Why would I fake that?
I was getting by well enough,  only having a few mental breaks at restaurants. Then Charming and I got orders to Germany.
I’m 93% sure that the language barrier when it came to getting food is the sole reason they had to up my anxiety meds.
After a few failed attempts (germans do NOT like to change their menu) we decided that we weren’t eating out anymore.
Okay, cool. Oh wait, I don’t know how to cook.
Shit.
I downloaded every episodes of Good Eats known to man and started a pinterest board (I’m such a white chick). After a few weeks of stumbling,  I began to get my sea legs. Even better was the fact that I had TOTAL CONTROL over what I ate. No more wondering if there really were nuts in a brownie or if a waiter remembered to not put in onions to your pasta. Charming was on board because he’s all about eating healthy. The more months I cooked and experimented, the more I loved cooking.
So why am I posting this?
Well, today Charming and I went to Triberg with a tour group. Totally groovy since it’s in the black forest, and I’ve always wanted to go. Not so groovy was that we had to just “pick up” a quick dinner on the main street to eat on the bus. Three options that were closing in twenty minutes (Germany is big on closing early) and had serious slim pickings.
Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!
The one thing I could eat ran out, so I was pissed that I was clearly going hungry. We get to the bus (after a lot of running) to find everyone there except one, and someone saying that the guy got more food. I didn’t know what to do, and Charming ran to get me some. Of course the one guy came back so everyone was waiting. Because of me. And I felt like such an indignant brat. I resented that I have to be so careful, especially when so few people understand (or worse, think I’m doing it for attention).
So, here I am, on a tour bus near tears because I hate being a problem. If you knew me, you would know I try to keep a laissez faire attitude about my allergies (and this isn’t even getting into outdoor ones). But here? It adds a whole new level of stress. GOD DAMN YOU, GERMANY, AND YOUR OBSESSION WITH HAZELNUTS!!!!!!!