Belly Betrayal

Why does my body only act up when I have plans? Like, I can float through an entire week of doing jack shit, and I feel fine. Normal. Chill. The second I’m excited. Like, actually hyped up, grinning like an idiot, counting down the hours excited. Suddenly my body turns into the fucking villain of the story.

I’ve got back-to-back concerts lined up. Two cities. Two nights. Road trip with my husband, singing in the car, making memories we’ll talk about for years. What does my body do? Goes full mutiny. Constipated. Bloated. I feel like I’ve been filled with cement and air at the same damn time. I swear I gained 30 pounds overnight, and not the cute kind.

But here’s the thing: I’m going to that damn concert. I will be shaking my booty, screaming lyrics, and living like my insides aren’t actively trying to sabotage me. I might collapse in the car on the way home, but I refuse… refuse to let my stupid body stop me from living.