Stomach vs. Self | Teen Ink

Stomach vs. Self

March 23, 2013
By Katkin PLATINUM, Three Hills, Other
Katkin PLATINUM, Three Hills, Other
34 articles 24 photos 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Writing is a socially acceptable form of Schizophrenia."

When I was a child, I often got the flu or a bad cold, and was at the mercy of my overly delicate internal system. My record of puking in one day is sixteen times, and that’s a fact. My body was more of a spoiled brat than I was, throwing tantrums at every possible moment.

However, those days are in the past, because now I am a mature and in-control seventeen year old. I have carefully learned the art of ignoring my stomach’s complaints, and can put off having a cold for weeks. It’s really all in the power of the mind, I have discovered. That, or I’m just lazy.

Once such example of this new found power happened during spring break. We were visiting my aunt and uncle for a few days. My aunt is a wonderful cook and I took every opportunity to stuff myself silly with croissants, potatoes and sausages of all kinds. It felt like my days were full of meal after meal, and I really don’t remember actually feeling hungry at all during those few days.

All was well, right until the evening before we were going to drive home. Before going to bed, I watched a TV show with my parents, snacking on leftovers from supper. And of course, I had to wash the food down with a glass of juice.

Feeling quite satisfied, I said goodnight to my parents and wandered off to my room. Being a writer, I like to stay up late, working on stories and chatting with people on Facebook. At around eleven o’clock, I was feeling rather tired, and knew I should go to sleep, because I’d be getting up early the next day. I closed the laptop, wrote in my journal for a few minutes, and then turned off the light.

The darkness was so warm and cozy and I felt quite content as I burrowed under the covers. My bed was just a mattress on the floor, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t comfortable. I was so excited to sleep. Already, I could feel my brain shutting down, and knew that I would fall asleep in no time.

Until my stomach suddenly started to complain. Usually, my stomach only complains quietly and I can easily ignore it. Tonight though, it was super loud, annoying me greatly.

“Hey! Hey you! Yeah, you, stop ignoring me!” It said, and I rolled my eyes. “Go away, Stomach, I’m trying to sleep.”

It was silent for a few moments, and I closed my eyes. Then it yelled, “No, I don’t want to let you sleep! I hate you!”

I wasn’t too upset by this, seeing as the feeling was mutual. I was already half in dreamland, and was too tired to do anything but sleep. My stomach would just have to deal with it.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!!” It shrieked, and for a moment, I wondered if my stomach was actually really serious today. I curled onto my side and growled angrily. “Go die, stomach.”

This made my stomach really mad, and then it asked my imagination for reinforcements. Suddenly, the only things I could think of were gross things, like dead animals, and eyeballs, and axe murderers. I realized what my stomach’s plan of attack was, and shook my head stubbornly.

“Really, Stomach, this is quite childish of you, resorting to such low tricks. I don’t feel like getting up to puke, and that’s that.”

My stomach whined at me. “I told you over and over to never eat food again! But do you listen to me? Noooo. You just think you know best, and so you eat, causing me such awful distress.”

“Oh, cry me a river and shut up.” I grumbled, now trying to ignore both my stomach and my imagination. However, my imagination was far more powerful than my stomach, and once it had decided to turn against me (the traitorous wretch), I knew it was a lost cause. Still, I wasn’t going to give my stomach the satisfaction of rushing to the bathroom and puking, like it had won or something.

“Really now, go puke. I don’t really have a reason, but I just want you to puke.” My stomach said, and I’m pretty sure it chuckled evilly.

“Stomach, I don’t want to get up, and I’m already half asleep. Do you know how far the bathroom is from here?”

“GO NOW!!” It screamed, and then followed with several terrible swear words that I wouldn’t dream of repeating.

Just to spite my stomach, I lay there for ten more minutes, and then sat up slowly, taking my time and thinking to myself, “Hm…maybe I should puke. Maybe that’s something I should do.” As though my stomach wasn’t the one with the idea.

I shuffled as slowly as possible to the bathroom, and I felt like I was taking a lovely stroll in a park. My mind had already fallen asleep, and I couldn’t be bothered to rush around in a panic. It took too much of an effort.

Slowly, I turned on the light, slowly closed the door, and then slowly knelt down by the toilet, rather lopsidedly, because I was so tired. My stomach had its moment of fury, and the mental image that came to mind was of those sewage tunnels that spew waste out into the ocean. It made me start giggling, even though I had just puked my guts out.

This defeated my stomach completely and it gave up, calling off my imagination as it retreated. I flushed the toilet and then sat on the floor. Getting up felt like too much work, so I sat there for a good twenty minutes, contemplating my existence.

“Well, that was an interesting adventure.” I finally thought, and shuffled back to bed, tripping over the carpet in the process.

“I’ll be back.” My stomach whispered, but by then, I had already fallen asleep.


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