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# GFML
- URL: https://dianaludwick.com/gfml/
- Published: 2026-04-12T23:09:10.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-24T20:09:42.000Z
- Description: “GFML,” a rant on the indignities and hunger of traveling while Gluten Free, written April 12, poem 102 in a series of 365 poems written by Diana Ludwick in 2026. Photo, "GFML: A Meal Of Sadness," by Diana Ludwick (c) 2026.
- Author: Diana Ludwick
- Tags: 2026 Poetry Challenge, Poems, Rants, Snarky, April, Dietary Restrictions, Food Dignity, Food Security, GF, GFML, Gluten Free, Go F My Life, Humor, Traveling, #Migrated-1792872215677, #wp, #wp-post, #Import 2026-10-24 20:03

The attendant drops a miniature  
food box onto my beige tray.  
It is shorter than my plastic fork  
— I can't help but notice.  
  
It arrives with a three-by-five  
yellow index card   
(bigger than my food)  
onto which an affixed   
mailing label screams:   
**GFML**.  
  
"Gluten Free Meal."  
It means. Allegedly.  
My seatmate shoots me  
a nervous side glance.  
In absence of their own  
knowledge and curiosity,  
I am branded a leper.  
  
And can I blame them?  
Honestly, the moniker  
**GFML** fits the moment  
just a little too well.  
  
I stare down with dismay  
at the diminutive white bento  
holding what purports to be dinner:  
five single green peas  
thirteen shriveled brown raisins  
one-eighth of a green bean   
(don't eat it all! You'll get a belly-ache!)  
perched atop, what looks like,  
at most, to be 200 grains of rice.  
  
I am fairly certain that   
Eloise's turtle Skipperdee,   
that hardshell Plaza stowaway,  
receives more as a snack than this.  
  
Did I mention that  
everything is cold?  
It's cold.   
Fridge cold.  
  
Congealed, dry rice.   
No sauce.  
No flavor.  
No oil.  
No seasoning at all.  
Unless, that is, the aroma  
of recirculated fridge air counts.  
  
**GFML**  
  
I stare at my left;   
I look forlornly to my right.  
Each of my neighbors  
are basking in the glow  
of their steaming hot entrees;   
one beef stroganoff and noodles,  
the other honey-gingered salmon.  
  
My eyes return to my own tray.  
**"GFML"**  
It now starts to make sense:  
It must actually stand for:  
**Go F--- My Life.**  
  
The airlines are sending  
a neon light message  
to anyone who dares to click  
"Gluten Free" on their ticket.  
  
A paper airplane to the eye  
would be more subtle   
than this disregard for comfort,  
this destruction of joy.  
  
This assemblage of sadness   
tells me to: *Pound sand.*  
Or better yet,   
eat it. Here you go!  
  
So much for upgrading  
— at great expense —  
to Economy Plus.  
I'm a mere plebe back here.  
  
After staring   
at this inequity for  
several long rough minutes,  
I hit the call button.  
  
When the uniformed man   
stops back at my aisle,   
I beg.  
I plead.  
I cry for literally anything   
that can sustain my life   
until touch-down   
at our destination.  
  
"Sorry, that's all we have!"   
The flight attendant says.  
Too cheerily, I'll add.  
Lesson learned.  
  
If you are hoping:  
 for taste,  
 for dairy  
 for dignity,  
let alone sustenance,   
you will need to pack it yourself.  
  
I feel like a pet   
that has been disciplined.  
I stare down   
at my food bowl.  
I am a bad dog.  
  
I enter a long silence.  
I wait for my pride to deflate.  
I hope this can   
settle my empty stomach.  
  
I grind my way   
through the gritty rice.  
I swallow the scarce hard peas.  
I nibble on my allotted  
fraction of a green bean.  
I masticate   
the inexplicable sultanas.  
And then I order   
three ginger ales, no ice,   
to gain some caloric intake.  
  
Anyone who thinks that being  
Gluten Free is for fun, think again.   
No one would subject themselves  
to this injustice if not necessary.  
  
If the airlines   
really want to know  
where their profit is going?  
I have a suggestion.  
  
All that jet fuel planes use  
is due to moving the   
extra weight caused by   
filled-to-the-brim backpacks  
and carefully crammed carry-ons.  
  
Heavy hand luggage are hauled  
by all the traumatized,  
skeptical, harried and wary  
dietary restricted guests  
who have to pack ten pounds   
of allergy-free snacks to simply   
guarantee safe passage.  
  
As my card says,  
GFML.