An Open Letter to Dairy

Dear Dairy,

The time has come: we’re through.  I know what you’re thinking…”oh this won’t last very long, just like every other time.”  But you’re wrong.  You see, last weekend was the deal breaker for me.  I can’t do it anymore, living this double life where I love and hate you, because at the end of the day you just don’t love me back.

And so, I’ll say it again, we’re through.

You and your damn hormones hurt me in so many ways.  You bloat, constipate, and inflame me.  Both literally and figuratively.  You leave my body feeling drained of energy as it works to rid itself of you and yours, despite lacking the proper machinery.

Fact of the matter is, I just can’t excuse your mistreatment of me anymore.

You see, my body is a temple.  Its beautiful and strong.  But when I let you pass my lips, oh how it hurts.  My brain rejoices, as you zing along all those little feel-good pathways, but the rest of me?  It dies a little.  Within minutes I’m congested; for days after I can barely climb a flight of stairs without huffing and puffing because my airways are so full of your mucus they don’t work properly.  Come a week, I can see the effects on my skin (yes pimples, I’m breaking up with you too).

So everyone won’t understand.  I know you will bring up others’ opinions when you come wheedling back into my life (which assuredly you will given our culture).  But they don’t have to live it.  There’s no pill I can take for freedom to breathe and to be.  So I will politely decline.  I will ask for now cheese.  I will get the crappy salad (oh how that pains me so!).  I will do what I need to do to be rid of your grip.

Because, at the end of the day, you just aren’t worth it.

And because my temple, you see she deserves so much more than you can give her.  She deserves the respect of me eating to please her, and the lightness, the glow that comes along with it.  She deserves to be treated like the treasure she truly is.  At the end of the day, I’ve got her and she’s got me and that’s all there is.

So yes, this is it.  We are through.

So long dairy.  Goodbye cheese.  I hope we never meet again.

The victim of your unrequited love,

Kait

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