Back in the Safe Zone...Sort Of

*me walking through the commonsblock to my residence building*

Girl in Booth: Hey!  Do you want to participate in a three-course dinner to promote sustainability?
Me: No, thanks. *tries to walk away*
Girl in Booth (frustrated): I don't know why everyone keeps saying no!  There is really no downside to this!  It's a great-
Me (slightly defensive): I have allergies.
Girl in Booth (sympathetic): Oh!  I'm sorry.  What are you allergic to?
Me (realizing the complete impracticality of an explanation) Pretty much everything.

Excepting awkward situations like the one described above, it's much easier to follow my allergen-free diet here at school.  I mean, sure, there are still some awkward (see above) and horrible things about it.  For example, at my school, in order to live in my residence you HAVE to purchase a meal plan.  Problem: I can't eat any of their food (My parents and I did not know about my allergies when we purchased my meal plan, for the record).  But I've got to spend the money on my meal card somehow, so I've been in the following situation numerous times for the past couple weeks:

*me dragging myself up the stairs to the dining hall, preparing myself for the onslaught of- OH GOD, THERE IT IS!  THE SMELLS OF ALL THOSE FANTASTICALLY FORBIDDEN FOODS!!!!!  Aauggghhhh!.......*

I walk directly and precariously through the war zone, er...dining hall, to the back where they keep the water and fruit (the fruit, as it happens, is always cruelly next to stacks of mocking bagels).  I resignedly place four apples and four kiwis on my tray (which were certainly not designed to accommodate eight pieces of semi-spherical fruit), then grab two water bottles from the fridge and line up to pay for them with my meal card.  Standing in line I can't help but stare longingly at my fellow students' plates of chicken strips, French fries, Macaroni and cheese, sushi drenched in teriyaki sauce, fully aware that I look like a complete moron standing there with my bizarre food choices (I can only cling to the hope that no one assumes I'm weird enough to have water and fruit comprise my dinner).  One on occassion:

Cashier (raises eyebrows as she does the transaction): Too much water.
(I smiled through gritted teeth.  What the hell am I supposed to say to that?)

School is more of a safe zone than home, I think, because at home the forbidden foods are just there.  Waiting -no, begging to be eaten.  Here at least it would be socially unacceptable to eat other people's food, and criminal to steal some.  My room, naturally, only houses foods I can eat, so it's a sort of refuge for me; a place that doesn't want to hurt me.  I'm grateful for this place.