And although I was a little upset about it, I was also quite happy. Because it made me feel unique and a little special. I loved telling people that I was lactose intolerant, because:
1. That felt like a fancier thing to say, rather than "I'm allergic to milk".
2. I had SOMETHING. You know, some kids have their talents like dancing, or singing, or just being smart. I now had an identifier.
But as it turned out, I wasn't very popular, so no one really knew that I was lactose intolerant. In the grand scale of things, it didn't improve my social standing.
But then a year went by and it wasn't so bad anymore. I was eating everything; my mom didn't have to make a separate dish of lasagne that didn't contain milk/cheese for me anymore.
I mean, I still couldn't drink a glass of milk or plain coffee because it kind of repulsed me, but I was back on my feet. And it struck me how small of a deal my problem was. This saddened me, because I didn't want it to lose its magnitude. And I think my older sister got kind of sick of me talking about it and referring to it (remember the problem didn't disappear completely; I still had some bouts of intolerance), because she analysed it and said that it was a psychological problem and that I had convinced myself that I was lactose intolerant, so my body reacted accordingly.
This actually seemed like a pretty good analysis of the situation, but I dismissed it because I didn't want to lose this problem, it was too special.
Pretty soon, everyone forget it.
And then when I was in eleventh grade, my doctor convinced me and my mom to go vegan for three months. I do realise that this part was purely psychological, because my face started itching whenever I ate something non-vegan. This is not a joke.
But I would eat ice cream whenever I was with my friends and I would say, "Don't worry, I'll deal with the consequences", as if the consequences were grave. They weren't. In fact, there didn't seem to be consequences anymore. This made me sad, and I wished my problems would come back, much as you wish a fever to engulf you when you're trying to skip school and none of the Ferris Beuller tips are working (or your parents are smarter than Ferris' parents).
It's not that it was entirely fabricated, I don't feel comfortable eating dairy products. Even chocolate.
But let me tell you what the "consequences" are:
I run to the toilet to shit.
Why would I wish for something like that? Was I so starved for attention? Apparently, I was.
But then I got over myself and decided I needed hobbies and other things to do with my time.
The problem has not completely disappeared, because I do occasionally say things like, "I really wish I hadn't eaten that piece of Kit Kat, please keep the bathroom free for me", but I have really improved.
So the moral of the story is : faking illnesses/diseases/allergies is not easy, and if you feel the need to do so, teach yourself to knit or something.
