Mark tackles my Anxious belly with a letter

Ok, Tummy, we need to have a chat. It's time to learn your place in the totem pole of Aine Smith (Aka Hannah the Clown).


You are there to house and process food. Nothing more. Anything else you try and shift around the body is just selfish attention-seeking. You can't hold the rest of the body hostage by instilling feelings of dread. This is absurd. You are there to be the part before poo. Accept it. Anything else is making the rest of the body hate you. Especially the top half where all the humour, creativity and pleasantness resides. This half should be left alone to thrive. In fact there is no reason why this half can't ignore you and do just that, you've just been a persistent wanker for so long the top half doesn't know how to shut you up.


Well, I'm not falling for it. The game is up belly of doom. You're just a belly. With a button. A food processor, not a mystical rod designed to sense danger and dread and tell the rest of the body it's coming. So, Belly be grateful you don't have a yeast allergy, be grateful you have an owner who doesn't allow you to expand into obesity and try listening to the purring top half instead of trying to take over with your incessant, selfish warbling.
You know what you are? One of those rock faces in Labyrinth trying to warn Sarah to turn back. You've got the gruff voice, the doomsaying ways. But you can't actually stop Sarah from doing anything. You're just a rock. You're just a belly and once the top half tells you to shut up and sees you for what you are, you're days of stepping outside your boundaries are over.


So shhhhhh, belly. Just shhhhhhhh. No one cares. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh