No one ever really notices if you're not a milk drinker. It's not like it comes up in social settings. You don't go to a restaurant with your friends and order your drink only to have them all turn on you.
"Oh, come on and let loose just this once. You mean to honestly tell me you never drink milk?"
"No. I never drink milk."
"Not even at Christmastime with cookies?"
"No, not even on Christmas with cookies or on any other holiday or with any other food."
"But what about in recipes? Do you eat things with milk in them?"
"Well, yes. In recipes the taste is cooked right out, isn't it?"
"Cereal makes me dry-heave."
"Because of the cereal?"
"Because of the milk."
"Are you lactose intolerant?"
"No. I just don't like milk."
"Oh, but why don't you try it just this once?"
"I'm sorry. I don't drink milk."
It really never happens. When you're eating cookies and someone offers you milk, it's easy to say, "I'd actually love some water, please." Then, no questions asked, your host brings you the water that will quench your thirst rather than the milk that will leave you heaving and phlegmmy.
On Saturday, Brother 2 came to pick me up to take me to Salt Lake and Park City for the day. He brought muffins and donuts for our breakfast, and I noticed that there were two bottles of milk in the cupholders, too.
I thought it might be interesting to try milk again. Afterall, I haven't touched the stuff for the purpose of drinking it for about two decades. I screwed off the red cap and took a swig to wash down the bran muffin I had just eaten. To me, it tasted just the same as I had always remembered. I managed to drink the whole bottle and considered rolling down the window for a drive-by puking for but a few moments. Then I was fine, albeit with cow taste in my plegmmy mouth.
"There!" I announced to Brother 2. "I did it. I drank it. And I still hate it."
"You don't drink milk?" he asked. (If your friends at restaurants won't notice, why should your family?)
"Nope. I haven't for pretty much most of my life. Can't stand it. But today, I figured I may as well try it, for the calcium if for nothing else."
"Where do you get your calcium, then?"
"I suppose I don't." And it's true. I'll drink calcium-fortified orange juice, not because I love orange juice (which I don't) but because I know I need the calcium. But I don't drink that much anymore, either, because I don't want to consume the calories. (And forsaking it has made such a difference in my figure! I mean, I'm pretty sure that I can attribute to my zero weight loss in the past several months to no calcium-fortified orange juice consumption. If I'd been drinking the stuff, surely I would have gained!)
"You know that your body is supposed to get all its calcium before you turn twenty-five," he said. I swear that Brother 2 knows everything.
So I have approximately two months to pack in all the calcium I've not been getting my entire life. I'll get right on it. By December 15th, I'll either look like a woman who's not going to break her hips easily, or I'll look like a giant piece of chalk due to the complete calcification of my body.