Hello there, dear reader, and welcome to my little corner of the internet—where I apparently “live on air” (at least, that’s what my friends suspect when I politely decline just about every dish on the menu). I’m the person who can’t eat gluten, dairy, eggs, sugar, almonds, peanuts, alcohol or basically anything that makes life worth living—and yet, here I am, fully functioning (sort of) and ready to spill the tea (herbal, of course).

Now, let’s get a few things straight:

  1. I’m Not Your Personal Chef You won’t find a treasure trove of “clean eating” recipes here. If you do find the occasional recipe, it’s probably a joke. Or it’s literally just a bowl of iceberg lettuce.
  2. I’m Not a Doctor, Nutritionist, or Wellness Guru I’m just an expert in navigating the weird and wonderful world of “Wait, you can’t eat what?!”
  3. No Diet Plans For Sale Because let’s face it—if you’re reading this, you probably already know that “diet plan” is code for “disappointment on a plate.” And none of us need more disappointment, thank you very much.

So, why am I here (other than sharing my questionable sense of humor)? My mission is to laugh at the absurdity of food restrictions while making them feel a little less isolating. Because if I can’t eat pizza like a normal person, the next best thing is to turn my heartbreaking cheese withdrawals into a good chuckle.

You can look forward to stories about the time I got served a single unseasoned carrot as a meal, the well-intentioned but clueless party host who fed me a “gluten-free” cake baked with actual wheat flour, and other borderline absurd encounters that remind me this is all (probably) real life.

So grab a snack you’re actually allowed to have, pull up a chair, and settle in. We’re going to laugh, roll our eyes, and embrace the chaos of restricted eating—together.

P.S. I’d love to hear your own hilariously tragic food stories, so don’t be shy—leave a comment, and let’s swap war stories.