Hi. It’s me. Yeah, me—the person whose gut you pick a fight with just about every day. You know, the one you ruined pizza parties for when she was little and beer parties for in college. I’m the girl you got crowned “Miss Mary Crap,” and “The Toilet Bowl Whisperer.” I’ve heard enough poop jokes to fill several hours of Comedy Central standup specials.
I’ve been thinking about “us” lately, and want to share some of my observations with you. You make mealtime torture, dating even more nerve-wracking than it already is, and big events like passing the Bar or getting married incapacitating. You’re a good-for-nothing piece of…oh, that’s just too easy. Suffice it to say: Crohn’s, you’re a crappy partner. We need to break up.
I’ve spent too many nights on the toilet or curled up in the fetal position, cursing my stomach when all this time it was you! You’re the one waging a war on my innocent insides, and they’re just trying to fight back. So, from this day on, I’m dumping you and reclaiming my life.
You’re no longer going to be the center of my attention. That’s right. I’m going to be the doting girlfriend to someone who will actually appreciate it. I’ll track my trigger foods like it’s the scientific method: carefully, patiently, and thoroughly. I’ll resist the temptation to binge occasionally on my favorite foods, because I know how much I will pay for it later. I will be more in tune with my body. I will be a better listener.
I know I’ll never fully escape you, but I can take charge of my life instead of feeling sorry for myself and feeding your need to control me. Like an ugly birthmark, you’ll always be a part of me, but you won’t be my defining characteristic. As I change my habits, you’ll lose your power. And though we’re bound to run into each other now and then (my gut’s a really small town), I’ll be ready to confront your tricks with confidence. And then I’ll strut away.
In other words, I win.