Dear Digestive System,
First off, I’d like to thank you for using the Immodium Advanced that I took this morning. I’m glad to see that you saw reason and realized that there was indeed nothing left to expel out of my body other than vital organs. I’m sure a thorough dredging of the sewer would find bits my appendix and perhaps my spleen because I feel certain something had to have been secretly broken down to meet the demands of whatever organism decided to use my innards as a campground for 48 hours.
You got all tricksy and thought to yourself, “For god’s sake, this virus still wants stuff to send out! Hell, let’s send the appendix; she’ll never know. And throw in the spleen if it still wants more.” Go ahead and blame it on the Small Intestine, but I’m looking at you, Large Intestine.
I understand that fighting these viruses must be difficult, and I commend you for not letting it get as bad as The Stomach Virus of 2003 when I was one puke away from going to the emergency room for some sort of relief (only because it was on a Sunday). But I do want to express my disappointment in the fact that you let this virus corrupt us. I take garlic and vitamins every day. I’ve been eating healthy and exercising, and I’m diligent about washing my hands. I held up my end of the bargain, Mr. Digestive System.
And I don’t want to hear any crap about how you were thinking it would give me a boost in the Biggest Loser Contest at work. I had already lost 6 pounds, I would have been perfectly capable of losing those 6.5 pounds through diet and exercise — not a virus that forced me to get up from a perfectly comfortable couch yesterday morning during Today to change my underwear because I sneezed and doodled on myself. Was that really necessary, Mr. Digestive System? You set me back at least 30 years on that one… thanks.
In the future, I’d really like for you to beef up your security on things like this because it’s becoming so frequent that I’m considering coming up with a name system similar to what NOAA has for the hurricanes. I won’t count last year’s issues because I realize it was the Stomach’s fault, but he couldn’t help it because Gall Bladder had to jump ship. (Note to Stomach: I am still giving you Nexium for that problem, so I don’t expect to hear anything from you.) I’d like to set a goal of at least ten years of being virus-free. Hey, 1995-2002 were seven glorious puke-free years; I think ten is a perfectly realistic goal.
Thanks for taking the time to read this letter.
The Chick Who Sends Food to You (And don’t you forget it.)