As you might recall, I made the brave decision to detail my colonoscopy on this very blog a couple years ago. Since that fateful day when I sealed it into Internet history just what a disaster my intestines are amidst a dramatic retelling of my b*hole being plundered, I’ve continued living my life and hoping that one day I wouldn’t wake up bloated and ready to let out a constant stream of noxious gas forever and for all of eternity. Sure, I’ve continued to dabble in over-the-counter remedies, again, hoping that one secret sauce would unblock the dams and let the poop flow freely, but not so freely that I needed a diaper. My tummy trials have continued with powders, pills, gummies, and most recently, a foray into the ever-obnoxious world of drinking greens every morning. Just as I knocked all of the H2O warriors off of their pedestals, I’ll do the same for the Green Goddesses. Did NOTHIN. I went through a whole tub of Bloom, drinking a daily greens smoothie every morning, and honestly I think I got MORE constipated if that’s even possible. So way to go, wellness babes. You’ve really got it figured out.

Well, I had one last bullet in the gun that I’d like to point directly at my digestive system and fire… and that was seeing a dietician. Please join me as I process my disappointment through jokes on what it’s like to willingly see a dietician when you’re not trying to lose weight or eat healthy, but you just want to stop poisoning your dog’s breathing air with toxic toots. (I’m so sorry, Charlee.)

In case you haven’t heard from the 40,000 times I’ve screamed it on my social media, 2025 is gonna be my year. I manifested a man in my future and he’s not gonna want to marry me if I smell like a sewage plant and spend the majority of my waking hours on the can. So step 1 is fix my tummy. Wellness starts from within, so I went back to the gym and started eating avocado toast. Avocado toast was discovered by the rest of the world a decade ago, and everyone pinpointed avocados as the only reason millennials couldn’t afford to buy a house. I felt like there was too much heat on the green stuff at this particular time, plus I genuinely didn’t know when an avocado is ripe or how to cut it, so I sat back and let everyone else enjoy it before I finally dabbled for the first time this year. Shit is great. I’ve really been missing out. I also throw 1-2 out a week because they have weird spots on the inside or completely rot on my counter so I can confirm this is why I’ll never be able to buy a house. Just throwing money right in the trash.

In addition to almost daily avo toast, I’ve been beefing up my tomato intake AND started making a daily smoothie as a pre-gym snack. So in summary, I’m exercising, and eating fruits/veggies erreday. Problem solved, right? Do I still toss back frozen TGIFridays potato skins & boxed mac and cheese on a weekly basis? You bet your ass I do. Not together though…what do you think I am, a synthetic powdered orange cheese factory? But now that I’m more balanced in my cheese to veggie ratio, I wasn’t feeling as ashamed as I usually am about my total disregard for my body and thus felt it was finally time to expose my habits to a dietician and say HELP ME, I’M POOR FULL OF SHIT. After completing a lengthy questionnaire where I once again doubled down my life philosophy, I had my first appointment.

But not before I had my last hurrah of a bender via the Super Bowl. Couldn’t tell you one thing about the game itself, but I will always accept an excuse to app my face off for 3 hours.

Since a dietician is a real bougie kind of doctor, this woman was located on the main street of a very rich beach town above a boutique that sells the type of clothes one might wear around Turks & Caicos on one’s monthly vacay. I saw my Dr’s very white woman who wears Lululemon to Whole Foods name on the door and I opened it not sure if I was going to walk into a little waiting area. Nope, I walked into her sitting at her desk in a coastal chic loft with very white carpeting. So not only did I barge in without knocking but I also tromped mud all over her white shag. Hot start! That first impression will tell you everything you need to know about this 50 minute appointment. I’m a big, messy, slob who would hook up an IV to a fondue fountain if given the option, and my dietician was a perfectly dressed, very fit, celestial being who is probably 75% kale and spoke in soft tones. As I proceeded to crack jokes about the smell of my farts and my harrowing experience at the GI where I caught a finger up the butt and was told I was pooping wrong, this dietician politely smiled and took notes. I had the good fortune of learning that my GI missed several tests that should’ve been administered before my colonoscopy, which as you recall, I had to demand. And then…we got into diet.

If I wasn’t already feeling inferior (I most certainly was) this would be the moment that I felt like a raccoon scavenging a dumpster for food. I mean, you would think I told this woman I’m channeling Morgan Spurlock and on a McDonald’s-only diet by her judgmental reactions. After pointing out my new love for avocados, I ran down a typical day of food for me, which is: bagel and schmear for breakfast (or eggs, bacon, & toast), turkey & cheese on a roll for lunch (or salad with prosciutto, olives, and cheese), and a meat, veggie and starch for dinzies. One cup of coffee a day and plenty of water (with soluble fiber powder) up until my nightcap of 1 glass of wine while I watch my evening programs. Pop quiz style she repeated my options back to me and asked me how many grams of fiber was in each option. Unfortunately for me, I had to say zero every time and honestly I was waiting to be sent to the chokey for my meal choices. I was quick to point out that I drink my fiber, per my last GI’s instruction, I powder my water with fiber for each meal. Well, apparently that’s not really doing anything, so I’m super glad I’ve spent the last 2 years stirring up a sand concoction to drink with each meal. She told me to get psyllium husk fiber (now we’re splitting hairs over what type of fiber is better), which spoiler alert I did and I poured it into water, used an electric mixer because it came out looking like cat vomit and after vigorously mixing it turned into a flesh tone gelatin that I wouldn’t touch let alone ingest, and that tub was promptly returned back to Trader Joe’s. SICK SUGGESTION! (This is the one thing I don’t have a photo of and I really regret not snapping one but I was too busy gagging, so enjoy some internet snaps instead.) Guess what my old “bad” fiber powder looked and tasted like? Water. No chewing necessary.

What’s even more embarrassing about this diet rundown is that I wasn’t even divulging the real deets of what ingredients I’m willing to consume (trick question, I don’t look at ingredients, if it tastes good I slam it in my boca), or the fact that I KNOW I’m eating probably 2-3 times the portion that I’m supposed to be eating per meal. Also, it’s February…so I very slyly was able to omit my hot dog intake because who the hell is eating wieners in the winter?! Now that you know how much I DIDN’T SHARE, don’t you feel like I was unfairly punished here?! In fact, homegirl LAUGHED at my bit about a life without cheese is not a life worth living and then goes, so you have to cut dairy out of your diet. EXSQUEEZE ME?! If that’s the case then just put me out of my damn misery, now, Doc! I sprinkle cheese into every single meal like I’m the damn dairy fairy. Let’s not even get started on the counter-covering charcuterie boards my family erects at holidays. This past winter I tried making a new soup recipe every few weeks, and guess what each soup called for? AT LEAST 3 TYPES OF CHEESE and heavy cream. One of them had Velveeta in it! Even my veggies have cheese. Green Giant’s frozen cheesy noodles and broccoli is a STAPLE side dish in this household for one, serving size for a family of four. SO I GUESS I’LL STARVE, BABE.

And starve is just what she’s having me do. I left with stacks of paper in tow, all listing terrible items to buy at the grocery store that not only taste like blech but also will basically bend me over at the register as well! Wanna know why most people eat like shit? BECAUSE THEIR JOB (OR MULTIPLE JOBS) DON’T PAY THEM ENOUGH TO AFFORD THE ORGANIC, ALL NATURAL, GLUTEN FREE, DAIRY FREE, DUG UP FROM THE GROUND BULLSHIT. Don’t even get me started on the notion that Whole Foods can charge triple the price for food that still has soil on it. So, wanna hear what a woman who has FOR SURE never fed her child a dino-shaped frozen chicken nuggie told me to buy? Sure ya do!

My breakfasts will now consist of fruits, chia seeds, whole grain bread and *natural* nut butters–ya know, the kind that have 4 ft of oil sitting at the top of the jar. My lunch suggestion was turkey, arugula, & vegan cashew pesto on whole grain bread with fruit as a side. And my dinner is a meat but the veggie can’t be cheesin and the starch should be a skin-on potato or sweet potato (no sour cream or butter.) Also, no more artificially flavored coffee creamer in my 1 cup of Joe per day. You know what’s fun about that? NOTHIN. PS if you want your life ruined like my co-worker ruined mine back in 2015…artificial vanilla flavoring in coffee creamer is actually a secretion from beaver’s anal glands. YOU’RE WELCOME. And s/o to Joella from Accounting who shared that tidbit with me as I poured vanilla flavored creamer in my cup. The best part of waking up is drinking beaver buttt juiiiicessssss!

Speaking of juice, when I was bragging about my fruit intake, I told the doc about my 3pm smoothies to get my blood sugar up so I don’t keel over on the elliptical at the gym, and she pointed out that a smoothie is a meal and not a snack. A smoothie is not a meal for me. It’s like drinking a glass of chocolate milk as a little flavor savor. It tides me over for about an hour and then I’m ready for the real deal. It was suggested to me that adding protein powder would give the “fullness” I’m looking for. It most certainly does not. Does this smoothie give a stunning pop of color to my ‘fit for the day? Yeah duh. But does it fill me up? No, I’m fucking starving.

So in summary, this dietician told me about a bunch more tests I need from the GI–one of them being post-marking a turd…should be fun, deleted dairy from my life without batting an eye, sent me links to expensive protein powder and vitamin brands to buy, judged me the hardest, and then followed up by submitting a full report with multiple pages of notes to my GP that included this spicy little snippet:

SHOTS FIRED, DOC! For a little context, which she provided none of in this nonsense: as she interrogated me about what I would or wouldn’t eat, I quipped that I was raised in a house full of chicken tendies, mac & cheese and pizza, so we weren’t really experimenting with organic cuisine. And when asked if I would make an intricate meal, I said I do not enjoy cooking and therefore try to make quick, easy meals. And when she brought up fruits and veggies, I told her that I live alone and can’t eat them fast enough before they go bad and end up wasting and throwing out food each week. TELL ME HOW THAT TRANSLATES TO GREW UP EATING MAC AND CHEESE AND PIZZA. DISLIKES COOKING, SINGLE AND LIVES ALONE. I mean, I guess thanks for writing my dating profile for me? Dislikes: cooking and being single. But also the opposite of thank you for sealing that into my medical record and bringing a doctor I saw one time for allergy meds into it? Feels like punishment for making you steam clean mud out of your white rug. PS beans are DISGUSTING.

Needless to say, I gave the dietician the ole, ‘don’t call me, I’ll call you’ farewell. And then I went to a new GI, who told me a stool sample is unnecessary (God, I love doctors all having a conflicting opinion on what I need) and agreed to give me a SIBO breathe test and a lactose intolerance test so I can tell the dietician to shove her dairy-free diet up a grass-fed cow’s ass. The SIBO breathe test is basically to find out if I have bacteria living in the wrong part of my gut, which can cause the rotten egg rips. I was mailed a box with a bunch of bags to blow into and very detailed instructions. Do I look like I work in Dexter’s Laboratory? There’s a HIGH margin of error if we put me in charge of this. I barely figured out how to do my own Covid tests and that was just to get out of work anytime I had a sniffle. TBD on this adventure, as I’m still going back and forth with the doctor on if insurance is even covering my little at-home experiment. I’m sure I’ll document it for laughs if I ever spit into a bunch of baggies and shove them in the mail.

My lactose intolerance test was last week. My instructions were to fast for 12 hours and drink 12 oz of milk before going into the office. Chocolate milk was approved and you’re an IDIOT if you choose to drink white in this scenario. Plain milk at the crack of dawn? Ick. I’d rather drink chunky psyllium husk fiber. So that’s how I found myself setting an alarm for 6am to chug chocolate milk. Honestly, it was delicious but I would’ve preferred to wake up and move around a little before doing essentially a chocolate car bomb.

My little prep sheet said the test was going to take 15-20 mins. I was in that office for an hour and a half and when I tell you I thought I was going to pass out from hunger, that’s the understatement of the century. I had a tech who had legitimately no clue what she was doing and I had to blow into what I imagine a breathalyzer looks like at 15 minute intervals. The way she explained it was, “if you blow higher than a 10 more than once, you’re lactose intolerant and if you don’t, you just keep blowing until it’s done.” Um? I blew a 1 and then she told me to take my little cardboard mouthpiece and F right off to the waiting room until I’m called again. You know what’s awkward? Holding the thing you’re shoving into a machine and spitting into and not remembering which side you put your mouth on and which side you put into a definitely saliva-filled machine. What an ironclad process we have here. I held it like a fat J to feel rebellious. (Is that how you hold a fat J? Asking for someone who’s never once smoked weed.)

Anyway, I blew a 1 every single time and that bitch did not set me free until it was basically lunch time. I’m not a doctor, but after I administer this at-home breathe test I will be, and I THINK IF YOU BLOW A 1 TWICE, YOU’RE VERY TOLERANT OF LACTOSE AND CAN GO EAT BREAKFAST. Also, not for nothing, but I’m very confident at this age I would know using my own brain and logic reasoning if I was allergic to dairy. But once again, who am I to advocate for my own body?

As I blew my last 1, I placed an order for a pork roll egg & cheese across the street. It had been weeks since I’d had cheese on a sammy and damnit I deserved it. I inhaled that thing on the drive home, even dripping grease on my leggings like a slob kebab. Worth ruining a pair of pants because it was truly a religious experience. And that, my friends, is why you can add all of the flax seeds, arugula, quinoa (tastes like actual flavorless orbs) and oat milk to my diet all you want but YOU WILL NEVER TAKE MY CHEESE.

See you in another 12-18 months when I revisit this topic because subbing berries for chips and pesto for cheese at lunch time is for sure not going to fix 33 years of IBS. By the way, Dave’s killer 21 whole grains & seeds bread RIPS my mouth to shreds on the daily. So, the saga continues…