Ignorant To Her Intolerance

| Related | July 16, 2013

(I am 29, and was diagnosed as lactose intolerant about 13 years ago.)

Me: “Sure, I’d love to come to sister’s graduation.”

Mom: “Great, we’re having a big family dinner afterwards.”

Me: “Sounds good, but what are you making?”

Mom: “Three-cheese bean dip, macaroni and cheese, and top-your-own ice cream sundaes!”

Me: “Mom, I’m lactose intolerant. I can’t eat any of those things.”

Mom: “Oh, right. I forgot. I’ll make you a veggie dish.”

Me: Thanks, mom. That sounds really good.”

(The day of graduation arrives. My family is picking at cheese laden bean dip, while macaroni is in the oven, baking. I sit down for dinner, and my family all get bowls of gooey home-made macaroni and cheese. I get a cutlet of eggplant parmesan, smothered with mozzarella and parmesan cheese.)

Me: “Um, mom? This is covered in cheese.”

Mom: “I know you wanted a vegetable dish, so I made you eggplant parmesan.”

Me: “Mom, I’m lactose intolerant. I literally cannot eat something smothered in cheese! That was the whole point of you making a separate dish for me.”

Mom: “Oh, you’re lactose intolerant? I forgot.”

(My sister calls dibs on my ice cream sundae.)

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