By FatCeliac • Updated November 2025
You know how every friend group has that person — the one who ruins brunch plans because they’re on another cleanse, or who brings their own salad dressing to dinner? Hi. It’s me. I’m that person. Except mine’s not a cleanse — it’s an autoimmune disease that throws a tantrum every time I eat a crumb of gluten.
Having celiac disease means I’m a full-time food detective. Every bite is a mystery, every menu a potential crime scene, every potluck a trust exercise I didn’t sign up for.
People say, “Just don’t eat bread!” as if gluten isn’t lurking in soy sauce, salad dressing, soup, lipstick, and the air I breathe within a 10-foot radius of a bakery.
And let’s not forget the fun social moments:
- “Oh, you’re gluten-free? You must feel so healthy!” (No, Susan, I feel like a medieval peasant with a cursed digestive system.)
- “One bite won’t hurt!” (It will. It will absolutely hurt.)
- “We made it gluten-friendly!” (That’s like saying a shark is people-friendly.)
Meanwhile, I’m over here doing chemistry experiments in my kitchen just to make bread that doesn’t double as a doorstop.
But here’s the thing — I wouldn’t trade it. Celiac forced me to learn what’s in my food, advocate for myself, and build a community that gets it. We may not get to eat the cake, but we definitely get to roast the people who tell us to “just scrape the croutons off.”
So yeah, celiac disease is the worst party guest ever — loud, demanding, and allergic to everything — but at least I brought the snacks. Gluten-free ones. And they’re amazing.
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