An Italian Coeliac = Oxymoron
Born in Melbourne in the early 60s to Italian parents, I remember at the age of 6 screaming to my parents, as yet again I had a pasta dish for dinner, “I don’t like pasta! I love rice. Why can’t I just have rice”. I never liked chocolate Easter eggs nor many cakes either.
I struggled at 12 when I went to Italy to be with my parents family. I came back to Australia very ill; I never did recover fully from this trip. I had lost so much weight and for the remainder of my teens looked & sometimes felt very anaemic. My attempt at sports were always a disaster and riddled injuries
At the age of 18, I learnt I hated beer. My mates thought I was a yuppie drinking spirit drinks. After a while, even drinking spirits would start to affect me, my legs started to swell with red painful spots. My doctor referred me to a dermatologist, who referred me to rheumatologist, who discovered that I had an autoimmune called Sjögren's disease
By 26 I had lived with my disorder so long that it became normal to feel ill after a meal. I started to eat most Italian dishes and try most cakes and chocolate. The party ended 30 years later when my Coeliac switch was permanently turned on - the pain was intense, the mind was fogged & the toilet too frequent.
At 55 I am not in a good place today. I struggle & am preoccupied daily with my meals and get a hard time from the public, friends and family who call me a “Princess” with my specific dietary requirements.
I somedays dream to “runaway” to a hippy commune somewhere so I can eat what I should and don't have to put up with this plastic bullshit city life.
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