Mayonnaise is trying to kill me

"Mayo Culpa" was my status update. I have a lot of regrets in life, but the biggest regret was eating that tuna salad on Friday. I am an idiot.

It will be 4 weeks this coming Friday since I had my gallbladder out. I am still coming to terms with the fact that I can't eat certain things. That may be because I am still struggling to absorb the news that once they removed my gallbladder they discovered that my complete hysterectomy six years ago was, um, actually kind of incomplete, and that my insides were riddled with scar tissue and fallopian tube and ovarian tissue.

I also have been distracted by the fond memories of my anesthesiologist. He looked like Anthony Bourdain and I totally wanted to suggest blowing off this whole "surgery thing" and getting a beer instead.

But the hardest thing to cope with, the thing that is haunting me the most, is the diet limitations. So far I have discovered that butter, mayo, cheese and eggs are almost impossible for my system to handle.

As you might imagine, I am devastated. Please remember that I am the woman who almost got into a fist fight with a friend who helped herself to some of my brie at a restaurant. I am the woman who starts every recipe by throwing a stick of butter in a pan and saying "we're gonna need to make a roux". I am the woman who believes that eggs scrambled in melted butter with melted cheese mixed in is, like, a food group. I am the woman who smears mayo on everything from spoonfuls of avocado to the outside of grilled cheese (cheese! WHY MUST YOU TORMENT ME?) I even started dipping my fries in mayo after I dated that guy from Belgium (the one who dumped me when I told him I loved him. I ate a lot of "frites" after that. Bastard.)

So basically, life as I know it is over.
There is life before mayo, and life after mayo. Which is no life at all.
Someone suggested I try Vegenaise. I kicked that person in the shin.

I have been assured that it will get easier. That in time, I might be able to eat these things again. That I will be able to enjoy a ham and cheese croissant and an espresso without feeling like my soul is being pulled out of my body through my bellybutton. And that is all well and good, but I am starting to lose the faith. I just don't think I can handle the process of trial and error anymore. I had to leave groceries on the conveyer belt in the grocery today and run in a cold sweat through the store to the bathroom, after enjoying french onion soup for lunch. And then there was that time I accidentally got kicked in the stomach during a fight this weekend - that didn't really help matters any.

But we'll save that story for another time, when I can find some humor in the situation.

And so, my recovery continues. Please order the eggs benedict with swiss and bacon on my behalf, and know that you are taking one for the team.