But one of us misread...

"Welcome everyone to coping with lactose intolerance! This is a time to learn how to work through our aversions and cope with the sometimes painful side effects. Here we're going to transcend..."
Already I had tuned out and was picking through my messenger bag to round up bits of trash and notice that I had 6 different chapsticks. I compulsively bought them like lighters and could rarely walk out of a drug store without a new one. I popped the cap off and put some on. What a gross little classroom. why are we here. Anthony was making a small cup out of folded paper. we were sitting in the back row with at least 10 empty rows in front of us. I found a lollipop in my bag and noisily unwrapped it. I offered the first taste to Anthony and he jammed into his mouth thinking I wouldn't take it back. Whatever, I paid for those hepatitis shots I'm going to put them to work. we struggled for a bit until I plugged his nose shut with one hand and manage to half cover his mouth with the other. he finally waived his hands to give up but when I let go he chucked the sucker off to the side of the classroom in some hideous pile of dust. in these cases when I know he's won it's the noble thing to back off and give him his moment. I wrote out on the paper that he had been folding, "It's fine, you're too fat for candy anyway". He was wound up and ready to freak when the guy leading the support group cleared his throat.
"Did you two hear what we're going to do now?"
"Not really, we were totally just goofing off. I can ask questions after class so it doesn't slow things down."
"This... this isn't a lecture. This is a support group to help people deal with dairy aversion. I'm sure you're both here for the same."
No... we're both here because our shared doctor felt that it would be beneficial to skip the dairy instead of the recent nosh n farts that we both got.
I was told a long time ago that the stomach is tied to our emotions. WOW, I know, deep and thrilling. Point is, when you're little and in trouble with your parents... right in the pit of your stomach... when someone's fighting it just socks me right in the gut... And as we slide into our older years sometimes people with major parent issues develop latent lactose intolerance. Oh sure, there's a bazillion medical explanations I'm sure. Just makes sense to me. You carry around pain and hurt in your stomach like that for years and it has to affect something...
Anthony went down first after ignoring the little details of his mother's suicide when he was a teenager that neatly tied into a decidedly doomed gay fling. I poked at his bloated stomach when he was beached on the couch after we went out for tacos. I bought him soy milk and tried to make a milkshake-like product but it wasn't nearly as good as the one I made with icecream. I passed it off as a symptom of unrealized mental issues. I crowed outside the bathroom door when he was trying to decide if he should shit his brains out or cut a hole in his side to let the billowing pressure out.
Three months into my miserable spat playing fat Echo to a distant Narcissus who didn't know I wilted thinking about him, it started. I would describe myself as being a person who can consume heroic quantities of dairy. I've eaten cheese that's aged in an attic in France for two months.... Blue cheese that was tangibly fuzzy and creamy... you put it in front of me with a cracker and I'm going to snarf it down. I had been at a fondue dinner and was dared to chug a mug of room temperature dipping cheese. I'd done it before... nothing to worry about. Well all that sad mood and resolute belief that I didn't deserve someone as wonderful as coffee shop boy... The one-track line of thinking that kept my chest rooted in a sinking feeling... and my stomach turned into slip knots of insecurity. Skipping meals for days on end and plugging my sober mouth with cigarettes until they irritated my body but gave me enough friendly feelings to cope. It started with a cup of coffee. I wondered if the cream had been bad and spent a pensive day with my hands folded over my noticeably distended belly. Plucking up the courage I went to have a small cup of cottage cheese and found that it wasn't a good option either. i shoved dairy into my mouth for weeks trying to find the one thing that didn't make me feel like being sick the whole time it made laps through my intestines. i broke down and admitted to Anthony what was happening when he came home to me teary-eyed with a plate of cheese and crackers in front of me.
"I'm not saying it! I'm not saying it until the damn doctor says it!"
It was lactose intolerance.

And it wasn't going to get any better. Oh the fuck it isn't! I can find enough hippy naturalpaths to get me hooked up with something. Maybe. My acupuncturist was on vacation for a month and her sub in gave me a card for the support group.
"You have to be kidding me. I'm going to group therapy to talk about the last time I had a grilled cheese sandwich?"
"Just try it... and take your roommate. I think you two could benefit from the positive healing vibe from this type of meeting."

Oh it was just awful... And between the both of us I'm the flake so if this was too too much, oy, it had to be the apex of god awful.
"Milk can't hurt us in here... we'll share this bliss moment and then we'll talk about healthy food options without dairy! Everyone come up to get a piece of paper. I want you to find a bliss moment. You need to get in touch with your resentment for this allergy... You need to actualize it before you can move past it."
Anthony whispered, "what the hell does that mean?!"
"It means he's going to make us do bullshit busy work to kill time before the recipes."
"Oh come on... I'm just here for some cooking tips. This is awful..."
"...And you two at the back. Please come up to write your bliss thought and I'll draw them out of a hat."
If I had been leading the support group I would have kicked my ass right out, but hey, if he won't do it, I'll just keep asserting my dominance. We moseyed up to the front as people glowered at us. YES we're the ones who aren't taking it seriously... I'M the only one who has enough sense to know it's my own fault that I've caused this. Everyone's looking to heal the intolerance and I'm more focused on when my acupuncturist is back to do some serious stress-relieving sessions.
We wrote down our bliss moment... It was already filled in with a suggestion at the top if you couldn't make up an original bliss thingy: "I would rather [blank] than dwell on my lactose intolerance."
We sat back down and I wondered if my cell phone had enough battery power left to play a game on it. No, too noisy with all the clicking.
"Ho-kay everyone. Let's share! This is a good one that someone came up with. 'Living life to the fullest is my bliss moment'. That's super! 'My children support me and work with my allergy'. How super is that? Take that thought... Empower yourselves with that thought! You're going to be OK! Now here's two folded up together. Looks like they used the phrase provided. Let's see. 'I would rather [die] than dwell on my lactose... in...tol... OK let's look at the other one... 'I would rather [fellate a cactus]..."
Of course he has to give the stink eye to me on that one. he's annoying to listen to but at least he's no dummy.
"Seriously, I would rather deep throat something with prickly spines on it than not be able to eat dairy..."
"YES? Did you say something?"
"I said, I can't wait for the recipes!"
He shook his head... I say we make a dart for it as soon as he turns away for a second....