You know that movie French Kiss with Meg Ryan. She is on a train. She had a lapse in judgement and decided to eat cheese. Lots of it. It tastes good. She eats more. She wonders why she chose to live a cheese-free life. Then it hits. "LACTOSE INTOLERANCE!" She yells out, as her stomach churns and gurgles and rumbles and the mucous coating her intestines rushes down to the, uh, nearest exit. [here is a clip of the movie]
At that point, her body has no control against stopping the inevitable outcome. Her only solution is to get to a bathroom quick, and hope that she makes it on time.
Few of you know what I am talking about. Few of you may have experienced it firsthand. It is not fun, my friends.
Last night, I had the same lapse in judgement. Why did I do it? That glass of chocolate milk seemed like a good idea. Oh, how I found out that it was NOT a good idea. Very bad. Very bad indeed. It's been quite a few years since I intentionally ate or drank something that I have deemed "in the danger zone" for me. I had forgotten what it makes my body do. Sometimes I think "Maybe this time I will be fine." I was so wrong.
I won't make that mistake again.