Dear stomach,

I am sorry for what I have made you. You were so perfect, not quite flat, with a cute little bump. I could lay a piece of paper across my hipbones and it would just skim you.

From now on, things will have to change. I have just bid on several beautiful dresses on eBay. They were made in the 1950s and so have twenty-six-inch waists.

You do not measure twenty-six inches. This is through no fault of your own, and I love you even when you bulge over my jeans. From now on I am going to do sit-ups. I know they are dull and maybe even painful for you, but they are sadly necessary. I will try to eat more lettuce and less cake. I hope you like lettuce.

For the good of the dresses,

The rest of me.

Dear stupid electronic noise in my mp3s,

Go away! Why are you there? You are annoying me.

From,

An annoyed girl.

Dear Tea,

Why aren't you as nice as you used to be? You give me a headache now, when you used to be so sweet and comforting. You don't taste the same any more. If you are not careful, I will be forced to drink coffee instead of you.

Kindly return to your previous taste.

Love,

A soon-to-be-ex tea-drinker

Dear tonsils,

Why do you hate me? Are you trying to escape? Because if you keep getting infected, I will be forced to have you cut out. Then you will be burned as hazardous waste. Is that really what you call a happy ending?

Or is it that you love me? Do you get infected to make me aware of your presence? To make me think about you and worry about you?

Either way, stop it. I'd quite like you to stay in my throat, pink and healthy and un-swollen.

Thanks,

a sick girl x