Gut instincts

Fair warning, this newsletter is about 💩💩💩

I mentioned that shrimp wear their shit on their backs in my initial newsletter, which briefly explored my fascination with more than just the cocktail piece of these delightful shellfish. I am bringing this up again because I cannot stop thinking about it recently, for personal reasons, natch.

Technically, shrimp not actually straight-up poop; it’s the digestive tract holding waste. It’s totally safe to eat, maybe a little bitter or gritty. But still. They wear it.

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Last week, at the grocery store, I pooped my pants.

I was in the canned vegetable aisle, reaching for some heart of palm, when it happened. In tears and shame, I quickly ran ask a staff member for the key to their private washroom.

Unfortunately, this was not a singular occurrence. I actually pooped my pants a few times over the past year, if I’m being honest, and I have to be honest, which I guess is why I’m writing this post.

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I was 18 or 19 when the doctor said I could no longer eat something called “gluten”. At the time, I largely subsisted on a steady college diet of pizza, beer, whiskey shot trays, orange foods (don’t ask), and a late-night delicacy of $2 chow mein noodles slathered in melted Kraft peanut butter (please ask). I struggled to keep food down or weight on, and had frequent infections in various parts of my body.

When I finally went to the doctor, I did a scratch and blood test and, while this didn’t lead to the conclusive Celiac¹ diagnosis I would receive later on, it was very indicative of a clear problem.

Now, please keep in mind that this was over 15 years and like two whole Gwyneth rebrands ago. “Gluten free diet” was not yet on anyone’s radar. Celiac Disease was certainly not common parlance. You could not get Rummo pasta or gluten free soy sauce unless you went to a specialty health store. And restaurants just thought you were being an absolute dick if you said anything at all.

Despite my doctor’s warnings, I was still 19 or whatever. So I ate what I wanted and engaged what my friends fondly referred to as a “gluten puke” at random times of day or night. It was disgusting and random, with last night’s grilled cheese showing up in the middle of a lesson, and lots of cute belching on dates with my then-bf. I was also increasingly addled with random infections that I could not figure out!

When I moved to New York I was still chugging “low-in-gluten-because-they’re-corn-and-rice” Budweisers, and I grew increasingly unwell. In a fun parallel path with my mental breakdown, my insides were breaking down too.

I would have to leave dates and parties due to rapid-onset diarrhea sweats before I was finally, properly diagnosed with Celiac Disease at 25.

“I’ll spare you the details,” I’d say after ducking out of a friend’s birthday party.

But, lately, I’ve found that sparing the details is becoming a problem.

M’gut!

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The modern shyness around talking about “poo” largely developed during the Victorian era, and has been linked to several factors, including increased knowledge around the spread of disease (and the subsequent obsession with hygiene and sanitation + the perceived ‘moral imperative’ of distancing oneself from contagion and dirt); the availability of indoor plumbing, which moved bodily function from public space to the privacy of the home; the move towards “civility” and away from “animal nature” and processes; etc. All of this led to a new social conditioning around waste. Embarrassment and self-surveillance very quickly became a cultural norm.

This kind of privacy and shame is a relatively new construct, and it’s not universal. But it sure it pervasive.

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Since I was diagnosed with and learned about the actual risk factors of Celiac Disease, I have avoided gluten at all costs (you’d be surprised about how many Shrimp Cocktails have sneaky soy or Worcestershire sauce!), and my health has regulated significantly. I even did a full gut health cleanse at the hands of a nutritionist!

But, over the last year, as my stress levels reached a major high, so did my flare ups. I underwent test after test and saw multiple specialists. Rather than being honest about what I was dealing with, I’d continue my refrain of “I’ll spare you the details” as I ran out the door. I went into every night out or group dinner expecting to have to leave, and not being able to be honest about why. My social anxiety went through the roof.

We’re taught to ignore and sanitize the story of what each and every one of us (hopefully) does every day, and to *optimize our gut health* without talking about actual guts.

Shrimp, in all their tiny honesty, never pretend. They wear their mess where everyone can see it. My gut has always been loud, if not proud, and I think I’ll take a cue from my little crustacean friends and stop sparing the details.

xo
🦐

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Spill the Sauce

Note: This is the part of the newsletter where I actually review shrimp cocktails

TW: The below cost $43 (I can write it off as research, okay?) and only had THREE SHRIMP. Both of those things are unacceptable.

Shangri-La Hotel Toronto - Lobby Lounge + Bar Shrimp Cocktail

• Freshness and crispness: Little, limp meh. - 6

• Meat and flavour: With only three shrimp, you’d expect them to be giant, but they had no meat to them! And tasted like frozen! - 5

• Presentation + Accompaniments: I REPEAT: ONLY THREE SHRIMP! They look so sad on the plate. Plus, a very lacklustre presentation overall. The charred lime was nice though! - 5.5

• Sauce: This was a “Thai cocktail sauce” (made sure it was Celiac safe). Nice and tangy, no spice though, and not enough shrimp to test on - 7

• Final review: This is the *shittiest* shrimp cocktail I have had in recent memory.

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Other silly things I’m consuming:

• I learned that my cousin has a pet shrimp named Steve!!!

  

• Just read some Really Good Books:

  • The Girls, John Bowen - (Note: Not the Emma Cline novel) I love how contained and detailed this book is, even as the plot gets twistier. A wonderful, pastoral read.

  • The Colony, Annika Norlin (translated by Alice E. Olsson) - I am obsessed with ants and also new religious movements, so this hit.

  • The Hearing Trumpet, Leonora Carrington - This is not for everyone. It certainly wasn’t for most of my book club when we read it this past month. But it was for me. Absolute madness.

  • Hamnet, Maggie O’Farrell - In advance of the movie, duh.

• Emily Sundberg of Feed Me fame posted a shrimp cocktail price index a while ago and I feel more seen than I should — pull me in next time, coach

  

1. Celiac disease is an autoimmune condition where the immune system reacts to gluten, sometimes causing damage to the small intestine. Gluten is a protein found in foods containing wheat, barley, or rye.