Conspiracy Meeting

Dearest Rachel –

Since my body and mind disagree – sometimes vehemently – on how to handle things, I wasn’t invited to last night’s discussion, preoccupied as I was with a handful of more or less forgettable dreams. But I’m assuming there must’ve been some coordination going on, so I’m gonna take my best guess as to how it went down.

In the literal absence of any brains for the operation, the most logical approach for the rest of my body to take would be to “go with the gut.” Not only does he have a centralized location within the body, but he also has the best handle on what’s coming in and going out. “Okay, everyone… we’re all settled in? Good.

“Now, as you guys know, yesterday was Thanksgiving. And while, as far as consumption went, it wasn’t that much worse than any other Thursday evening (and considering he started eating a couple of hours earlier than usual, I think we’ll be in good shape at some point; I’ve still got a fair amount to process, but that’s to be expected).

“The thing is – and we all know this is coming – today is Friday, and he hasn’t worked out since Monday.” There’s a coughing noise in the back of the hall, to which the stomach sighs. “Yes, feet. We know he went walking with Lars on Wednesday – and that walk takes up more time than his workouts do – but you also must know that he doesn’t consider that to be the same thing. It’s not nearly as strenuous, and they almost always have lunch afterwards, which negates the calories they burned and then some. We’ve got to take into account how the brain sees these things, if we’re going to persuade him to not bother this morning.

“The good news is, I can almost guarantee that he has no plans to go into the ‘office’ today, and unless either Kerstin or Erin –” and there was a fair amount of chuckling at this; Kerstin had very nearly turned down the offer to join the family for dinner yesterday (not only had she not wanted to intrude on a family get-together, but she also had cleaning and other chores around the house to take care of, which she would probably be dealing with today), while Erin’s work and sleep schedules were notoriously unpredictable, or at least difficult to get a handle on for one who didn’t work similar graveyard hours – “invite him out to do so, I don’t think he has any plans for Black Friday shopping, apart from maybe going online, which we all know isn’t remotely the same thing.

“So all we have to do is to figure out how to persuade him not to head off to the gym this morning, which I know will be likely for him to feel the need to do. He’s already skipped one day,” and at this, the stomach makes a placating gesture to the back on the hall, “yes feet, we’ve already addressed this – and after a couple of days of checking in at over two-twenty-five first thing in the morning, not to mention a famously heavy meal last night, it’s entirely possible that he might tip the scales in the high two-twenties… or even nudge into the two-thirties.”

The gasp of the assembled crowd was audible.

“Exactly. We’re up against it, folks. and don’t think he won’t wake up at five, with plenty of time to decide whether or not to go. He’s just old enough where even six or seven would be considered ‘sleeping in’; yeah, I miss those teenage and college years, too.

“So we’ve got to come up with something before then, to try and convince him that it’s just not worth it to head out. Have we got any suggestions?” Another cough from the back of the room, and the stomach raises a pair of metaphorical eyebrows. “Are we jumping in feet first, then? This is a surprise. Go ahead, boys; what have you got for us?”

“Well, Gut, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but between the holiday and the church service the night before, he’s been wearing those dress shoes for a couple of days straight now. We actually hadn’t expected this ourselves, but we’re starting to feel a little scrunched. It kind of gives that feeling you get a couple hours after stubbing a couple of our toes, y’know? And since just about every one of his exercises requires us to be at the top of our game…”

“…you think that he’s not gonna want to put too much strain on you this morning, because of the pain that you’re sending him. I like it. I mean, it depends on just how strong the pain is, sure, but that could be very persuasive.” The stomach’s tone is sincerely appreciative for the idea, and its reasonable nature. “And I have to admit, it’s good of you to offer a suggestion first, especially since you’ve been complaining several times already in this meeting.” If feet could look sheepish, this would be the point for them to do so, but also somewhat gratified for the praise; they’re not used to the spotlight. As a general rule, they just do their job, and don’t call that much attention to themselves, so this amount of focus takes some getting used to.

It doesn’t last, however, and that’s just as well, as far as the feet are concerned. The stomach resumes his address to the rest of the assembled crowd. “Anyway, let’s see if we can’t get a little more insurance; any other aches and pains we can remind him of? How about you, spine?” My back is rather a reliable source of such nagging sensations; I have trouble sleeping in such a way that nothing bothers it on a given night, so it’s a literal gut move to ask him to assist.

However, it has a bit of surprise, and while it’s welcome to me, the assembly may not be so pleased. “Sorry, Gut. I think he’s gotten to the point where he ignores me, because I’m like this most of the time. And honestly, tonight hasn’t been one worth complaining about, so I don’t really have that much to offer.”

Now another voice chimes in; it’s the shoulders. “Hey, I think I can help you out there. You know how he gets on that one machine where he’s trying to do abdominal crunches? He puts these straps over us, and then tries to touch his knees with his face, while we’re being rubbed raw by the force of like, 130, 140 pounds. We just know he’s gonna try for 150 this morning, and we’re still sore from Monday. Let us remind him of this fact.”

“Hm; okay, I suppose that will have to do for now,” the gut murmurs, acknowledging both the ‘bad’ news from the back as well as the slightly specialized complaint from the shoulders. “Can’t be choosers, I suppose, especially since it’s almost five already. You guys go and do what you can, and let’s hope that it works. We can do a debrief about it at this time tomorrow, and see how it all went.

“Meeting adjourned; everybody to your places. Oh… and Colon? Can I see you for a moment?” As the other organs file out to man their respective stations for the day, the stomach sidles up to his alimentary colleague. “Look, I’m not quite finished with yesterday’s workload, but I’ve already got some material in my outbox I can forward on to you. Why don’t we see if we can do our part so that, when he steps on the scale this morning, he’s at least satisfied by what he sees?” The thick tube wobbles about silently for a moment, considering the request, before the upper bobs up and down in its own take on nodding.

It’s settled; the rest of the body has conspired to convince my brain that it’s not worth the trouble to leave the house and work out this morning. And, as you can tell by the fact that I’ve put this letter together for you, it seems that their plan worked; there’s going to be a fair amount of back-slapping tonight in congratulations.

Hopefully, though, not too much… I’d prefer it not to be aching tomorrow morning either, if at all possible.

Anyway, I’ve got to get on with whatever else I might be doing today, honey. Keep an eye on me, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.