What it’s like to be lactose intolerant in Europe 

So, I have a mild intolerance to lactose (or I like to ignore the effects). As a child I suffered but now I’m living the dream with almond milk and soy products. God bless NAFTA. Lactose is not my friend, so I avoid it, but I tolerate small amounts of yogurt and cheese (an impasse). 

However, across the Atlantic, our sophisticated friends think we are nuts. They enjoy bread, whole milk (from cow!), butter, cream, and the rest of the food we saw in “The Little House of the Prairie.” While little sips won’t kill me, my skin breaks and my digestive system starts talking in a different language. 

My allergy to cats sends me to ER but my coffee-less morning mood might send someone else to the ER. My beloved tall-decaf-coffee-of-the-day-with-hot-soy-milk was not a possibility I did what any sensitive Mexican lady would do: blend in.

Et voilà! I was eating like the locals, learning words, and loving my sweet life. These were the outcomes of my marvelous plan:

  1. Complete experience– I tried all the foods (except pork), drink what they did, walk and spent time like they would.
  2. European figure– I did not gain weight from all the carbs I ate; I assimilate their eating habits (quite different).
  3. Acne comeback– yes, my skin breaks. The lactose-fat-carbs diet helped my teenage acne make an appearance.
  4. Digestive fun– my stomach was confused by my change of meals and did rebel. Nothing a sweet espresso couldn’t cure.
  5. Happy days– I was happy from the beginning to the end. 

Be adventurous and try not to die!


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