Basically, myself and my siblings were placed on a diet that consisted of rice cakes (the puffed-rice-compressed-discs-of-bland type) and margarine for a few days to “detox.” Then we were introduced to foods to see if we had an “allergic reaction.”
Two things stand out in my memories.
I specifically recall the sensation of waking in the middle of the night to vomit my “dinner” all over myself: an entire plate of overcooked, boiled, green (string) beans. This meant, to my deluded mother, that I was allergic to string beans.
I’m not. Unfortunately, though, I couldn’t stand the taste of string beans for about 30 years after that.
Going to birthday parties as an eight year old and bringing your own rice cakes (the puffed-rice-compressed-discs-of-bland type) and margarine and not being able to partake of the cakes and candy and soda and other sugary deliciousness was both soul cruising and humiliating.
What my mother called “allergy testing.”
Basically, myself and my siblings were placed on a diet that consisted of rice cakes (the puffed-rice-compressed-discs-of-bland type) and margarine for a few days to “detox.” Then we were introduced to foods to see if we had an “allergic reaction.” Two things stand out in my memories.
I specifically recall the sensation of waking in the middle of the night to vomit my “dinner” all over myself: an entire plate of overcooked, boiled, green (string) beans. This meant, to my deluded mother, that I was allergic to string beans. I’m not. Unfortunately, though, I couldn’t stand the taste of string beans for about 30 years after that.
Going to birthday parties as an eight year old and bringing your own rice cakes (the puffed-rice-compressed-discs-of-bland type) and margarine and not being able to partake of the cakes and candy and soda and other sugary deliciousness was both soul cruising and humiliating.
Edit: punctuating