Atkins. Paleo. South Beach. So many diet fads, so little time.

The whole gluten-free trend started a few years back. I use “trend” lightly because I don’t think this is another trendy eating fad. Gluten-free is here to stay.

Until recently, I thought it was a load of crap. I assumed it was a diet obsessed over by girls avoiding carbs in order to lose weight. A life without pizza? Is that even a life worth living?

My perspective changed when my mom came to me with an article she found online about the effects that gluten consumption has on a gluten-intolerant body. My mom is as skeptical as they come. She’s against fad diets and dieting in general and is all about the “everything in moderation” mantra, so the fact that she came to me with this article told me she meant business.

The gist of the article was that eating gluten with a gluten intolerance can lead to acid reflux (check), fatigue (check–or was that just my tendency for pulling all-nighters and lack of exercise?), headaches (check) and keratosis pilaris on the arms or legs (bingo). Keratosis pilaris is the fancy name for those red bumps that people commonly get on their upper arms or thighs, often referred to as “chicken skin.”

That damn chicken skin started popping up on my arms in elementary school and hasn’t disappeared since. I ignored it or covered it all of my life until high school; my tactic during those four years was to stay as tan as possible, meaning the red bumps were hardly noticeable. After starting college, I visited a dermatologist who prescribed a medicated lotion. The lotion failed, and I gave up. So when I saw that there was a possible cause for my embarrassing chicken skin, I was ready to drop everything—bagels, bread and all—at a chance to finally clear up my chicken skin for good.

Since I was already prepared to tackle the month-long challenge of sobriety, I figured I may as well suffer through a month without gluten at the same time.

Here is a brief timeline of how my mindset shifted (or failed to shift) over my four gluten-free weeks:

Week one: “Pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza…”

Week two: “Pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza…”

Week three: “Pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza…”

Week four: “Pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza…”

But seriously.

Besides pizza, I really didn’t eat that much gluten before this diet. I prefer brown rice and quinoa over pasta. I rarely eat sandwiches, so bread isn’t a staple in my normal diet. And honestly, I’m clearly obsessed with pizza, but really didn’t eat it too often before my gluten-free month. OK, maybe I’m a sucker for buy one, get one free frozen pizzas at Lunds every week, but whatever.

Throughout the entire month, the lack of pizza was the hardest part, hands down. Early on in my little experiment, I tried a gluten-free frozen pizza in a moment of weakness; it was comparable to eating a cardboard box smothered in smashed tomatoes and melted mozzarella. I tried to pawn it off on my hungover roommates, and even they couldn’t choke it down.

When the cravings were once again too strong to ignore, my willpower diminished and I tested out some pre-made gluten-free pizza crust dough. It was … interesting. Not bad, just interesting. “Chewy” is the first word that came to mind as I was eating it, which isn’t necessarily a word you want associated with pizza. Smothering it in cheese and my favorite toppings helped, as did some extra baking time to crisp it up a bit.

The gluten-free dough eased my cravings for a while. Following the “out of sight, out of mind” concept, I removed the Toppers ads and coupons from my fridge door. It helped, but my roommates’ drunken Davanni’s orders haunted me with their aromas—a girl can only stay strong for so long. One night I indulged, and I enjoyed every last gluten-y bite down to the final gluten-y crumb. It was glorious, until about an hour passed, and I had a splitting headache and stomach pains like you wouldn’t believe. I’m going to go ahead and guess that wasn’t a coincidence; lesson learned.

My next attempt to combat my cravings was the famous cauliflower crust. If you’ve ever been on Pinterest, I guarantee you’ve seen countless pins of this gluten-free crust concept. I was skeptical. I appreciate healthy swaps and alternatives for cooking as much as the next girl, but did I dare risk ruining the perfection that is a gluten-y pizza crust?

Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I hit up my Google search bar and started creeping on cooking blogs (pathetically, one of my favorite pastimes). A cleverly-titled website with witty captions got me hooked, so I went for it, and I’m so glad I did. Yes, it’s still a little chewier than normal pizza crust. True gluten-y pizza holds an irreplaceable spot in my heart, but the cauliflower crust pizza will do the trick when my sensibility trumps my craving. Not too shabby, blogosphere!

I extended my month-long experiment by choice and plan to continue it as a lifestyle change. Yes, my cravings were frequent, and I fell off the wagon once when I pigged out on some gluten-y heaven, but other than that, it went well. I’ve never felt better, and I absolutely attribute that to the newfound lack of gluten in my diet. My acid reflux is rare, my energy is through the roof, my headaches are gone and, the best part of all, the lovely keratosis pilaris that once covered my arms is slowly, but surely, disappearing.

Going gluten-free won’t cure all of your medical woes, but it can’t hurt to do your research and try something new. The fact that the gluten-free trend has gone on this long and continues to gain popularity is a sign that it isn’t a trend at all; it could actually be a credible concept. I’m glad I tried it (and I certainly empathize with my Celiac friends now). It might be worth a shot to even partially incorporate gluten-free eating habits into your normal diet. You might be surprised by what you find.

Thirteen years of embarrassing chicken skin on my arms, and all I had to do was eat a freaking veggie pizza? Maybe I should listen to my mom more often.

Anne Gaslin can be reached at gasl8257@stthomas.edu.