Myrtle

Victor
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My dancing body. I pause at the barre, my stomach cramps and fondues are too much for me to handle. Close my eyes… gurgle, gurgle… relief. I can keep going. My weight fluctuates. One week I have no appetite. I drop five pounds. The next, I’m ravenous and gain it back plus some. I eat when I want to, because in an hour it could be a different story. Be careful though. Don’t want your rumblings to disturb the other students. Maybe just a light snack. Nope, bad idea. I get weird looks from the other students. I grimace and smile, always making light of it, got to keep other people comfortable. Internally, I curse Myrtle. That’s my colon. Yes, I’ve named her. Like Moaning Myrtle, the ghost from Harry Potter who lives in toilets? I got the idea from a book. Myrtle doesn’t care for tights and a leotard. Too constricting, puts pressure in all the wrong places. Grumble, grumble…

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