The dairy-free thing is starting to wear on me. After almost seven months of not eating milk, butter, cheese, yogurt, or ice cream, except on accident, the thing that made me the most sad was birthday cake.
Yesterday was our friend K & J’s little boy’s first birthday party. The cake looked and smelled so good. But it was from Publix. And it had buttercream frosting. And it was totally off limits. I could’ve cried I wanted a piece so bad. I could still cry about it right now. I honestly have not felt this worked up over dairy the entire time I’ve been going without. I have no idea why it was so hard to deny myself yesterday.
I keep telling myself that I’m doing what’s best for Joshua, and really, I am. I know that. But part of me, that nagging part of me that lives in the back of my mind, tells me that I’m trying to make myself some kind of martyr. That I’m secretly screaming “LOOK AT ME AND ALL I’VE SACRIFICED. I’M BETTER THAN YOU.” And that’s not who I want to be. That’s not why I want to do this.
So, I still don’t know how long I’ll keep up the dairy free diet. I know that with Thanksgiving and Christmas coming up, this is going to be ridiculously difficult. Hell, with the way we prepare the feast in our house, I can’t even eat TURKEY, much less the yummy deliciousness which are side dishes.