For the last couple of months I’ve been trying an experiment.

Spurred by unprecedented allergies spawned by plants and dust boorish enough to insist on occupying the same planet I do, I began searching for a solution.

I don’t like drugs. If a side effect is possible, it will find me. So, tossing antihistamines to the pollen-laden, dust-carrying wind, I sought something that would address the allergy issue from a more natural viewpoint.

And I thought I found it.

I was amazed at the proclamations that were made! The accomplishments touted! The rosy, healthful portrait painted! Imagine…no more allergies. In fact, uncounted physical and mental blessings would shower down upon me if only I would follow the plan.

So I vowed that for two months, I would embrace a grain-free diet.

We’re not talking just ‘gluten free,’ the buzz word that has spread it’s dry, wheatless fingers over our culture with unexpected tenacity. We’re talking no grains at all. The logic behind the diet was intriguing, if un-provable. I didn’t care about losing weight, so this clever plan hooked me with a dazzling array of other benefits.

I would give it a fair shot. I would jump in wholeheartedly.

I bought the book loaded with attractive grain-free recipes. I decided to try their version of ‘bread’ first. This necessitated a shopping trip.

Fine. I was going to do this right. One food processor, a hand mixer, a wooden spoon, various mixing bowls, and an array of hard-to-find-and-extremely-expensive ingredients later…I was ready to begin.

I made their version of ‘bread.’ I felt victorious when it looked like the picture. I figured I could get used to the odd taste…and I did. I was off and running. Allergy-freedom was a mere five days away. But I was warned that those five days could be grueling as my body labored its way through grain withdrawal.

I stuck it out. As long as withdrawal doesn’t involve vomiting and the shakes…I’m your girl. I found it encouraging when I did feel a little under the weather. It was like a promise kept. Surely the rest would come true, too.

Well, two months later I have to admit…the regimen dried up my sinuses. It also dried up my skin, my hair, my eyes, and whatever pads one’s joints to make movement fluid and painless.

“Maybe my body will adjust,” I croaked to myself early on as I awoke in the middle of the night for the seventh time, my throat parched, my skin itching, my eyes grating against their lids loud enough to be audible. “Maybe I just need more time.”

Yeah. Right. I stuck it out for two months.

I traded allergy angst for a full body malady.

I’m off the bloody program. My shopping list for tomorrow unashamedly includes bread, cereal, and a host of other items that will hopefully reboot and re-lube my entire system.

But I think the most telling indictment of this misadventure was when I brought the last loaf of ‘bread’ outside and left it for the host of wild creatures with whom I share my land. I set it out last night.

It’s still there.