Why I Can’t Eat Cheese Or Chocolate

Cheese is like heroin to me. As we all know, addiction to something is more powerful than the substance.

However, as a yogini, cheese is not as addictive as the other substances. In fact, it doesn’t even have quite the same effect as opiates. I cannot stand the taste of cheese. It makes me think of the death of my grandmother. Every time I have it I want to curl into a ball and die.

I have always resisted eating any food that I did not intend to eat. I was raised with an extremely strict philosophy in regards to food, to the point where even now I often feel guilty about my avoidance. However, one day my cousin had to leave for work. I had been meaning to go out to the restaurant she normally frequents for a week.

She came in one day saying it wasn’t possible to make cheese because of the weather. I wasn’t mad enough to complain but I decided to go anyway. I did, however, insist on getting some sort of savory appetizer afterwards so I could have an excuse if they wanted to charge me for the cheese. Of course, they didn’t.

The next week, just like the preceding week, I had to go to that restaurant. The one place I had never actually been. It was all new for me. I was nervous. I had never been to that restaurant before. I wasn’t going to let myself get into a situation where I could have a bad experience with the cheese-eating experience.

I went to the restaurant like everyone else. Not the best pizza, but still. I was very confident that I could eat the cheese. I told myself over and over again that I would enjoy the delicious cheese. It was as I was eating, however, that I noticed.

What I had eaten was breaded chicken breast with onions and red peppers. The chicken was in a white sauce, which I found odd. Not that I care to be picky, but why would I want to eat a white sauce? The peppers were actually a red pepper that had been boiled. That meant I was actually eating pepper sauce.

This, of course, was not what I was expecting to eat. I was very nervous and not very full. Not that I think I had the energy to eat cheese, but it had only been half a day and I didn’t even know the other ingredient (other than the red peppers). My mind was already reeling.

I put a bit of pepper sauce on my cornichons. Not exactly my idea of good eating, but that is a different article. I decided to eat.

After I finished one slice, I found myself thinking,

If only the cheese has the same effects as heroin. I tried to continue on, eating the rest of the chicken. The pepper sauce wasn’t the only taste that I could feel now-I tasted the tomato sauce, the onions, the chicken, pepper sauce, and the red peppers. I had never noticed the presence of these things with cheese, but the cheese had taken a lot out of me, and I was still hungry.

I knew better than to get involved with the sauce when the waiter walked away. I had to make sure someone else would eat what this man had left. I would eat the entire piece of breaded chicken, I knew the cheese was not going to eat my brain.

I was not hungry anymore.

I realized that I could not eat anything that I had not intended to eat. I had been on the wrong path, and had chosen the wrong food for my purposes.