Lactose will not be tolerated.

Ok it's time for me to get something off of my chest.  It's something that has been a part of my life for the last 10 years.  Let me take you back to the beginning when it was all so easy.  When I was young my favorite thing to eat was choclolate.  Anything chocolate.  During my whole upbringing when I was able to order a scoop or a cone I would always pick a chocolate flavor.  What did I love to eat for my main course?  Cheese.  Lots of cheese.  I would sneak into the kitchen and eat kraft singles like they were going out of style.  For 17 years of my life God allowed me to enjoy dairy products with comfort and ease.

I don't know what I did wrong.  Maybe I said something.  Maybe I was mean to my sister, but God took away my ability to digest milk products.  My junior year of high school I got my first job.  I made pizzas at Papa Johns.  I worked there for two summers.  I would come in at around 10 in the morning and I would leave at 9 at night.  All I ate during the day were black olives.  Right before I left I would make myself a large pizza.  When I got home I would sit down on the couch in the basement and watch tv while eating the whole large pizza.  I did this for a couple of summers.  I gained no weight.  Some have said that this is the reason I became lactose intolerant.  I refuse to believe that.

Nothing illustrates the agony and pain of my lactose intolerancy quite like the "Ice Cream Sandwich Story"  My family always made the Sabbath very special.  One thing that my mom did for the Sabbath was to allow us to have a cool treat after friday night supper.  When we were growing up this was something my brother and sister all looked forward to.  During a break from college we were all back at home and we were enjoying a friday night with the folks.  After dinner we had ice cream sandwiches.  At this time I thought my body could handle two sandwiches with just a little mild discomfort.  This was a huge mistake.  We were sitting around the kitchen table when my sister brought up going on a walk.  The sun was still going down pretty late so my whole family thought that this was a good idea.  We started walking and we were having a great time just being a family when it happened.  The BG's.  If you don't know what that Acronym stands for it means bubble guts.  You've had em.  Your friends have certainly had them.  It's a sign that everybody isn't really getting along in there.  We got to a point in our walk that I realized that I needed to turn around.  for the last quarter mile I had been arguing with myself about whether I could finish the walk with my family.  I realized that I had to make a retreat and that I was on the clock.  I started the journey back with some quickness in my step.  The clock was quickly winding down and I was doing the math in my head.  Ok I have x amount of steps left to get to the house in y amount of time.  The math was not adding up.  I quickly switched gears and went into the fast clench walk.  Everybody at one point or another has busted the fast clench walk.  It's kinda like power walking only with shorter quicker steps.  The time was winding down and I slowly but surely realized that I was nowhere near my house and that battle was about to be lost.  My mindset quickly switched from trying to get home to trying to find a large bush.  There wasn't even enough time to do that.  The clock went to zero and all I could do was take a sharp left into some poor family's front yard and end it all.  After that there was no fast clench walk.  It had been replaced with a walk of shame. Actually the walk of shame followed the pants down sprint.   I don't think I have to explain that the family would be a little upset to see me using there beautiful bluegrass as a Johnny On The Spot. After that there was no frivolous ice cream eating.  No Reeses Peanut Butter Cups.  Not even a cheese pizza.  There was no denying the facts.  God is mad at me.  So he doesn't allow me to have the thing I love.