This is Part 2 of the Frankie Chronicles. Yesterday was Part 1. If you didn’t read it, you need to know that Frankie is my persnickety and domineering appetite that lives in my belly.
I think I was too harsh on Frankie in my introductory blog. I said there was ONE GOOD THING he has done for my body: he’ll never let me starve. And one good thing he’s done for my figure (to be revealed later). Ignoring the bratty personality he usually displays, I think Frankie has another positive quality.
This quality is TOTALLY self-serving in nature, but the end result is still beneficial for me. Frankie is a militant defender against stomach flu.
Frankie has only two thoughts:
“Feed me!”
“I’m happy.”
Over and over.
“Feed me!”
“I’m happy.”
All day. All night.
Anything that disrupts this pattern enrages Frankie. Consequently he goes all out to maintain the status quo of my stomach. Frankie does NOT like to blow chow. First, because he likes food too much. And second, vomiting might jeopardize his feeding schedule. As a result, I don’t get the stomach flu. (Knocking on wood so I won’t jinx this nice health benefit!)
I can’t remember the last time I barfed. Had to be in the 80s. (But that was a result of too much booze.) Ye Ol’ Hubby Man does not have a Frankie helping him out. One time he ate seafood lasagna from a questionable restaurant in Eureka–a beer-brewing joint. It was the “nightly special” – a clue that the leftover scraps from the weekend were lurking in that culinary crabfest.
HM got sicker than a dog. Like my childhood dog Jingles, who used to eat golf balls and puked bits and pieces all over the front lawn. BTW, rubber bands are not digestible.
I imagine Frankie has a large pair of boxing gloves. Any time a foreign invader—a viral bug, bad gut bacteria, tainted food particles—dares to venture into his tummy territory, he knocks the crap out of them. Probably yelling in the process:
“You’re trespassing on my turf! Get your diseased ass out of here and don’t come back!”
Or something like that.
Which is why I reward Frankie with cookies—from time to time. Even though his motivation is all about “Feed Me!” he does help ensure homeostasis, which my body likes.
Swine flu, bird flu, H1N1—no match for Frankie. He is one tough dude.
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