- Standing in front of the milk fridge at Coleworths and thinking about whether I should buy milk, a milk alternative, or neither.
I don’t know if they are still doing it, but when I was little, there was something like a “School Milk Program,” a government initiative providing milk (with parents’ tax money) to students as part of their school meals. The majority of us drank it without any problems, except everyone was excited for flavoured milk day (usually once a week), and sometimes we were just so sick of it that we threw it out the window from the 5th floor to the ground like water-filled balloons. Back then, lactose intolerance wasn’t recognized as much as it is nowadays. In fact, no one said no to milk, at least in my classes, as far as I remember.
Now, I know more lactose-intolerant people than tolerant ones, including myself. I don’t fart or suffer from tummy aches to diarrhea, but my skin always breaks out and my eczema flares up after I consume any dairy product, such as a cup of coffee (with milk), a slice of pizza (with cheese), or a piece of cake (with cream). I found this out while I did a little experiment in May, eating only sources of protein, chimichurri sauce, and carrots.
Recently, not only did I find out that dairy messes me up, but also that when my progesterone is higher (after ovulation and before my period), my eczema (which was on my neck last year but is inside my elbow this year) gets worse. But think about it—before my period, I crave sugar and junk food more, so at this point, I am not sure if my eczema is triggered by dairy, sugar, or my own hormones (called progestogen hypersensitivity (PH) or autoimmune progesterone dermatitis (APD)).
At first, I suspected L and thought I was allergic to L’s semen because it always flared after L came inside (for pregnancy purposes), but when L isn’t here, I’m still scratching until I bleed. So, I don’t know. At least L is now relieved because he doesn’t have to get blamed for my psychosis. Then it’s Django’s turn: people say to get a dog because it will be good for my mental health, but my dog has his own issues, e.g., small man (short king) syndrome, and we both have attachment problems. So, I don’t know if it’s better or worse. Also, he has his own dermatitis on his groin and paws on wet days, so if it’s not L, it’s Django! Or… it’s just me.
Chobani’s oat milk, especially the vanilla flavour, and Bonsoy taste the best for my liking (it tastes even better than milk when drunk with coffee), but I don’t think they’re any better than sugary, oily water with no benefits. But is milk any more beneficial other than its flavor? Unless you’re a psychopath who enjoys exploiting mother cows (I’m no vegan, and when I drink milk, I feel grateful to those cows who produce milk with no holiday). And this is why I bought Rokeby FitMilk this week; it claims to have less sugar and more protein! I don’t know how this even works, and imagine how much processing they had to do to make a carton of this milk. God knows what’s happening to make 50% less sugar, 50% more protein, lactose-free milk.
That was a good, fair 20 minutes of my life in front of the milk section.
But not only milk—I tend to spend a lot of time in the supermarket just reading labels and ingredients on sauce jars, tins, and bottles. You know when you are choosing a good panettone, butter and egg yolk should be listed first among other ingredients because butter and egg yolk are what make panettone moist. Speaking of which, last Easter, we happened to be invited to an Italian family, and that was my first and best panettone experience. It wasn’t appealing to me until then because I don’t like dried fruits, e.g., raisins, in anything. Like, why do people add dried fruit to their granola and energy bars?
When I thought about panettone, it was always with dried fruits. However, last Easter, we had salted caramel panettone, which I mentioned over and over for eight months until last week. It was so moist, fluffy, and gooey inside—omg, so yum. I couldn’t believe I had missed such a thing for 30 years of my life! And I never got to see it again after Easter until, I don’t know, maybe around November. I started to see more and more panettone here and there, and my craving for that salted caramel, god-sent fluffy heaven got worse. I couldn’t help myself but wait because the Italian family promised me the best panettone since I had been singing about it for more than half a year. They got me one last week, but I’m heartbroken—it’s the candied orange and dried fruit one… not the one I had on Easter. What I had on Easter was called Colomba, panettone’s beautiful cousin. With raisins and fruit or some chocolate(which is traditional panettone), it’s just brioche with filling. Anyway, yesterday I made tuna pasta and was looking for basil pesto to buy. It’s always fascinating comparing brands’ ingredients—some have more basil content, and some have more additives. Did I buy the one with more basil? No! I got the best looking jar with cute colour lid.
Sometimes you miss the flavour of Italy and buy this and that labeled as “Made in Italy” or “Product of Italy,” but you’re not sure if it tastes better with all those preservatives and plastic-coated tins. When wine is imported/exported, there is someone in the cargo who looks after the wine exclusively for its temperature, etc. But who’s in charge of looking after tomato tins and pasta sauce?
If I ever worried about preservatives, additives, lead, Bisphenol A, and other hormone disruptors, I’d never be able to buy my colourful water bottles. I’ve been drinking like a whale to make full use of them, and now I want to get a plastic one because these stainless steel triple-wall insulated vacuum BPA-free bottles are too heavy with a liter of liquid. Then I found out about Tritan™ plastic, which… I think is another gimmick like Bamboo Cotton®, but I might get one from Nalgene because their colours are soo cute omg UwU.
I don’t know how people (especially L) think I’m lazy when I think all of these things with the time I saved by not folding clothes and not putting dishes in the dishwasher. I’m so busy thinking all of these things and articulating them in writing. Real lazy people are the ones who get fed by their algorithms—there’s a reason it’s called ‘feed.’ People just sit there and scroll through what apps spoon-feed them. It was hard work for me to get to the point where I hit the ‘breastfeeding (very sexually)’ side of Instagram or the ‘Indian death by train’ side of Instagram. It took me years to build this algorithm brick by brick! Reading a book requires a lot of effort, though. I have to either go to Dymocks or download the samples (which is great—good job, Google Play Store—but still, not many books I want are available there) and read through them before I buy. Regardless, I bought more books and didn’t finish any of the ones I had. Kek…
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