Reasons That My Gut Hates Me

By Kathryn Kvas

Sometimes I wonder when I stopped being a growing girl and turned into a decaying girl. You’d think it might have been when I got my period for the first time, or lost my virginity, but I think it was when I ate some bad shellfish when I was twenty-nine.

Look, I’m aware that I was decaying well before my twenty-ninth birthday, O.K.? You don't have to be a jerk about it. I know I am and always have been on my way to inevitable death. But that shellfish food-poisoning event at twenty-nine was a sight to see. It also definitely took a few years off my life and apparently made my gut decide that I wasn't worth digesting food for.

This sucked, but I had a long talk with my gut, and it actually gave me a bunch of other solid reasons why it is no longer participating, like:

It wants me to have hot-girl tummy problems just like all the other young hot girls on social media.

After hearing me tell several people that I considered myself a "foodie," it decided to call it quits.

I ate one too many gas-station hot dogs, and that sent my gut over the edge. Not because I got food poisoning, but because it wanted Funyuns instead.

After repeatedly telling me not to take that job, or to make out with that guy, or to Google "bloating cancer symptom?" for the fifth time in a week, my gut decided that I was better off dead.

My gut watched "The Matrix" and realized that we’re most likely all living inside of a simulation so none of this matters anyway. That may sound depressing, but actually it opened up my gut's eyes a lot.

My gut had a long talk with its therapist and decided to set some boundaries, which included no longer digesting things that "don't serve its needs." Like edibles, coffee, frozen Trader Joe's pizza, or alcohol, which comprise ninety per cent of my diet.

My gut had to listen to one more man explain crypto, and that sent it over the edge.

My gut has been ignored for a long time. It's been trying to guide me and tell me things, but its voice has been overpowered, time and time again. You see, my gut lives in a world where we’re supposed to smile and do what we’re told, to have a stable job and participate in a society that exploits and murders. So, after decades of not being listened to, there's only so much it can take, you know? Before it just stops working. Either that, or it starts a podcast, but it didn't want to be cliché.

Mostly, though, it was the gas-station hot dog. ♦