Dear Thyroid,
Here it is, the start of a brand new year – a time of renewal, of positive change, of hope…
…and there you are, the same lazy asshole, wallowing in your own filth and doing absolutely nothing productive with your existence.
You make me sick.
Literally and figuratively.
You’re a 2-for-1 sale on sickness.
Good job.
Fuck you.
Dear Tits,
Jesus Christ, Chesty La Rue, why can’t you be more like Busty St. Clair? CUP SIZE IS NOT A RACE. I don’t know what you think you’re trying to prove, but nobody likes an overachiever. Why don’t you just go ahead and shrink back down to a more reasonable order of magnitude like your sister there on the left and we’ll forget this whole thing ever happened? I’m fed up with having the goddamn Odd Couple staring back at me in the mirror; sort your shit out.
Dear Legs,
Yes, we have started jogging again. No, it isn’t the end of the world. Quit yer bitchin’. You think you have problems now? Just wait until I decide we’re up to another squat challenge like the one we did last summer. THEN WE’LL SEE WHO’S LAUGHING. (Neither of us, because OH GOD IT BURNS.)
Dear Digestive Tract,
Thanks so much for choosing the past year to induct me into the “need to drink a tall, swirling glass of psyllium fiber every day to poop right” club.
Really. It’s great. I don’t feel like I’ve become my grandparents at all.
Not one bit.
Dear Booty,
I know you have one of the most thankless jobs around here, getting sat on all day and being in such unavoidably close proximity to my less endearing bodily functions (see above), but hot DAMN do you look good in those new workout pants I bought us.
I’m sure you already knew that from the way I’ve been staring at you in oh, I don’t know, every reflective surface we pass, but I just thought I’d say it anyway, just in case you were somehow oblivious to how totally rockin’ you are.
Dear Uterus,
DIE IN A FIRE.
Spoken Like A True Nut 
Please let me know if any of these letters work. I’m particularly interested in knowing whether breasts can be trained to get their shit together (or at least compare notes so it doesn’t look like I ran out of helium and had to get my asthmatic great-aunt June to inflate the right one) and whether the uterus can be shamed into just leaving me the hell alone forever.
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Will do. I’ve got my fingers crossed. (Hopefully they won’t betray me too.)
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You’re not the only one with the fiber dilemma. May I suggest Benefiber (or, Costco has a great, cheap copycat version). Absolutely clear, non-gritty, and tasteless when mixed with liquids. I put a big scoop in my morning water bottle and then another when I get home for the day. If I’m feeling really ambitious (or incredible stopped up), I’ll add it into my soups, stews, smoothies, and the like. Happy pooping! And when you figure out a fix for the boob thing, let me know. I’m currently resorting to stuffing my bras — but only on my right side.
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I went with psyllium husks because the Google consensus seemed to be that that worked best for people like me whose poop got screwed up when they were put on hard core iron supplements. So far it’s doing the trick and I’m loath to mess with a good thing, but thanks for the recommendation anyway!
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Girlfriend! Yoga twists are da bomb! And they have eliminated my need for any digestive tract supplements. Though I will admit to eating as much cultured (fermented) foods as I can get. Apple cider vinegar does the trick as well. Trust me on this. 🙂
Meanwhile, my uterus can go right ahead on with what it’s doing. Every time Aunt Flo comes I thank her for one more month of strong bones! lol
Love your sense of humor and wish I had YOUR booty! Sadly, that is not my rockin’ feature at the moment.
Peace out,
~C
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Now now, we’ll have none of your optimism here.
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I know, right?! lol
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My uterus can be added to the bonfire of body parts. Not having children, don’t need a uterus, why am I still putting up with this bullshit again?! Ugh.
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Right? I know it’s wrong to envy the misfortunes of others, but sometimes I really do wish I had a medical reason for them to just yank out that particular piece of equipment and send it packing.
Actually, I wish uterine transplants were more successful/prevalent so I could donate mine to someone who needs one.
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I’d write a letter to my uterus but it went on a roadtrip last year. Probably having more fun than me. Jerk.
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At least it doesn’t send you gloating postcards (I hope).
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Haha! Like all smashed on pina coladas and hanging all over the pool boy!
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I have a list of body parts that need scolding.
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You give ’em what for!
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Out of six body parts having one that’s actually working for you is not bad. What is it with thyroids, though? I would say it’s the one gland that goes out of its way to be a dick but that’s a whole other organ entirely.
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Yeah, I honestly never thought my butt would ever qualify as a silver lining in the grand scheme of things, but here we are.
And I don’t know what it is with thyroids. I wish I knew. When I first started mentioning my hypothyroidism to people it was crazy just how many of them came back with, “Oh yeah, I have that too. It SUCKS.” Is it some kind of glandular strike? Do the thyroids have union demands they can’t communicate to us? Anyone who can figure this out gets my undying love and admiration. I JUST WANT TO KNOW WHY…
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Prologue to comment – I’m a guy. (I’m told that this is the part of the book you put the “hook” in. Did it work?)
COMMENT ch.1 – Just found your blog. Friggin love it.
ch. 2 – According to Biodigital human.com I’m missing lots of parts u wrote your letter to (no need to go there its mostly gross anatomy (hehehe get it))
ch. 3 – Is it a bad thing that I’m kinda jealous?
ch. 4 – Just took a piss standing up. Conflict resolved.
The end (for now…)
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1. Why thank you, good sir. (Or bad sir, or mediocre sir…whatever applies. I don’t know your life. You do you.)
2. *childish snickering*
3. It’s okay, we all have our lapses in judgement now and then.
4. Get out. Actually, first put the seat down. Then get out.
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Not sure Gabe can stay here and play if he is going to brag about standing to pee… But it is your blog, so I’ll let you decide 🙂
My booty looks hot in yoga pants but it is my lady bits that can all go to hell. My head is a bit of a mess too, but I’m afraid to write to it because it’s a bitch and it takes only one prisoner.
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I’ve given up on trying to reason with my head. Mules WISH they were as stubborn as the obstinate mass of grey matter I’m packing up top.
Admiring my own butt and yelling at my lady bits are much more productive uses of my time.
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Ditto most of this.
My uterus has decided to go with the Russian Roulette method of timing its cycle. It needs to die in a hole.
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You call your thyroid a lazy asshole, but I bet your asshole’s working a lot harder than your thyroid! Then I read you are in fact also have digestive issues so I propose we find some new insults to better malign these stupid parts.
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Now accepting suggestions.
Lazy appendix, perhaps?
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