Practice Makes Perfect?
Right now I'm feeling a bit like creeper. It's an Edward Cullen moment, if you will. Right now, I'm sitting in the bedroom armchair as my friend sleeps after our hardcore movie marathon. This is my second sleepover of the summer, and my third time dragging along my beloved cooler to hang out with the gang. And you know what? It was insanely, awesomely easier. Perfectly imperfect.
In my mind, my first sleepover almost a week ago was like my first time riding a bike. With the help of my parents, I managed to swing my leg over the metal contraption, pick up some speed and even steer partially straight. But, when I needed to stop and get off, I squeezed the breaks too hard and promptly body-slammed into the asphalt. Last week, I over analyzed my eating after the party and - boom! A ten out of ten professional crash.
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| Tearin' up asphalt on my Barbie motorbike |
As the majority of you have probably heard, though, practice makes perfect. Or, at least, practice makes it less of a mental train wreck. This time around, I knew how to text my friend to not worry about providing special food for me. I knew exactly how many snacks to shove inside the cooler and I knew how to ninja-swallow all of my celiac vitamin pills without looking like a drug addict. Compared to entering the party blind, I visualized every possible awkward conversation, food dilemma, and gluten-free interview ahead of time. As a result, I looked like a doofus with my 3D glasses while re-watching the Avengers without a celiac care in the world.
Sure, the food temptations remained. How can they not? All humans have to eat, and when they eat, they want it to be good!
In this case, the scent of fresh gluten-filled chocolate chip cookies floated through the air even as we watched Captain America kick some Nazi butt on TV. A little funny during the battle scenes, but if I can't eat it, at least I can smell it! And then came the chicken noodle soup, cooked old style on the stove top. You know, I never was a soup person before my diagnosis. Now? The ultimate comfort food. If our cupboards are stocked with noodles that won't rampage the inside of my intestines once swallowed.
But, munching on my leftover homemade pizza with fruit and a cookie of my own, I found I didn't even mind. It helped that neither my friend nor her mom commented on the difference in food. In some ways, it felt like the discrepancy was invisible as long as I believed it so. I was in control. Finally! And that was pretty freaking awesome.
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| Two thumbs up! |
The bottom line is, despite all the lessons, tips, and experiences I've gained, grabbing hold of perfection isn't my main goal. Dude, if you just take a look at the picture of my digestive track, you know I'm a natural at being a little messed up. What I do want is to be the imperfect but fantastic friend. I want to walk into a room, cooler by my side, and light it up. I want to chow down on my gluten free goodies while everyone else devours an extra-large Domino pizza and, while being envious, still have a rockin' fun time. I want to be aconfident social celiac, and this second sleepover has shown me that it is totally possible.
Watch out Point Loma. This bike-riding, cooler-carrying imperfect celiac is almost there. And she's determined to enjoy every minute of it!
Do you believe you studied exercise makes perfect? What have you ever discovered on the grounds that going gluten-loose? Comment beneath!
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