With Passover behind me once again, I set my sights on getting back into my routine and back to baking. I’ve been making our family’s bread for a little over two years now. The bread has definitely been healthier (no additives), much less expensive and amazingly more delicious than any store-bought bread I’ve ever had. As I’ve said in other posts, I also enjoy the creative and scientific process of making my own bread. There is something about making something from scratch, homemade, that nourishes, nurtures and literally feeds your family that feels so good. I also like the time in the kitchen, happily humming to myself, and engaging all my senses – that yeasty, warm, sticky, tanginess. I like the preciseness of the measuring and the risk and challenge and playfulness of experimenting with ingredients.
In my two years of bread baking, a lot has happened in my/our lives. Emily was diagnosed with breast cancer and underwent long and difficult treatment. She lost her hair, grew her hair, lost a breast, gained a breast and we laughed and cried over things we would never have imagined laughing or crying about. Joita entered and navigated puberty with as much grace as anyone I’ve ever seen. Nina toddled her way through the notorious terrible twos and entered the tumultuous threes giving us no small amount of giggles, frustration, joy and grey hairs. And I realized, accepted and am trying to figure out what it means that I am, and have always been, transgender.
So of course I’ve been assuming that this growing bulge around my middle was cortisol fat from stress. Figuring when life got less stressful it would go away. Hoping that was the case. But the stress of life has ebbs and flows and through it all my belly grows. Seriously, that line is priceless. I did ask my doctor about it when I was there recently and she just sort of shrugged. That’s middle age I guess, was the tone of that shrug. But truthfully, I am not a horrible eater. I don’t eat a ton. I get plenty of exercise. The rest of me is relatively in shape and not fat or flabby. And on top of the big belly, I’m tired all the time. What is up with this?!
Anyway, to cut to the chase. To make a long post somewhat shorter, now I’m apparently having to come to terms with what is rather unlovingly referred to as wheat belly. Yeah, yeah, I bought the book. I fit the profile. I guess I will (rather reluctantly) try a wheat-free diet. While this will obviously wreak havoc, I hope this doesn’t completely ruin my love affair with bread baking. Let the journey continue and new adventure begin.