String Cheese Rant

Right now I’m going dairy-free because my intestines have decided that if it comes out of something that says moo, they don’t like it.  (Digestive issues are pretty common with endometriosis, unfortunately.)I guess you could say my intestines are anti-bovine.  I was doing okay with this no-dairy business until I realized something absolutely, completely, totally, utterly horrific.

String cheese is dairy.

As in, it has moo-juice in it.

As in, I. Can’t. Have. It.

My intestines are all, “No string cheese for you!” like that annoying soup Nazi on “Seinfeld.”

This wouldn’t be a problem if I hated string cheese.  But the way I feel about string cheese is the complete opposite of hate.  I’m craving string cheese.  When I say I’m craving string cheese, I mean I want string cheese like Gandhi wanted peace.

Sometimes I write about more profound things.  And sometimes I just really want string cheese. :p

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2 thoughts on “String Cheese Rant

  1. God, how I miss string cheese. My man still eats it in abundance, so it sits in a drawer in the fridge. Taunting me. Daring me. And I cringe and walk away. That and a good grilled cheese sammich. Or hell, just a block of aged cheddar and my mouth. Good memories. But nothing but memories…I risked it about a month ago and enjoyed some cheese (after not having any for 6 months). And paid for it that evening…oh my guts! Now I totally want to draw a sad, dejected string cheese. Or you do it. ha.

    1. I feel your pain! I’ve made a couple attempts to re-introduce dairy but that ended in total disaster, to put it mildly, so dairy and I won’t be getting back together anytime soon!

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