Every Monday and Wednesday I wake up at 8 am ish. Disoriented I stumble out into the kitchen, grab my usual square blue bowl, pour a generous amount of cereal, add the proportional amount of milk, and haphazardly attempt to feed myself. On good days all of it makes it into my mouth, other days...well...my green, mold like carpet gets a luxurious creamy bath. Why is it necessary that you know this? It's my proof that I do indeed eat, despite what I'm about to tell you next.
You see, twice a week, on those beloved Mondays and Wednesdays, I have a New Testament class at 11 that lasts two hours. This class takes place in an intimately small room with fantastic acoustics. It is five rows deep and houses about 30 people total. Because of its religious nature my professor has a very strict "no technology" policy as well as a "no talking policy", unless you are responding to something he has said. Because of all of these factors, the class is extremely quiet.
I have a love/hate relationship with this class and I'll tell you why. At approximately 11:15 each class period (it seriously is like clock work, I should create some sort of log) I face the most utterly terrifying feeling in the entire world (yes, it is that bad). It starts out as a subtle hollow feeling, then slowly works to an ache. At this point in the process I'm panicking. I chomp on my gum, chug my water, hastily search my bag for anything edible, yet, it is never enough. Because...what happens next...happens regardless of my tireless efforts...and is almost worse than Emily Maynard keeping the self proclaimed entertainer in the awful green shirt on the first night of The Bachelorette (almost, he's terrible)...it is...the growl.
A soft gurgling, it causes a frenzy. Internally I'm freaking out. As subtly as humanly possible, my arms creep up to my stomach and get in position, ready to tightly fold over my menace of a stomach at a moment's notice. The ultimate feeling of emptiness comes next. I feel hollow and my body knows it. All of my muscles tighten, the little hairs on my arms jump up, every nerve in my body in tune with my teeny tiny stomach. Then, as if out of no where, it comes. The deep grumble. We're not talking little rock slide grumble. We're talking Mt. Vesuvius grumble.
Nobody around me will make eye contact or acknowledge that an earthquake just took place next to them, but they are all thinking "Hmmm...she should probably eat" or "Wow, I'm willing to bet that this girl never eats", and the most likely "Huh...I thought Mt. St. Helen's was in Washington". j
Everyone's been there. It's incredibly awkward and personally irritating. Generally my response to the situation above is silence. Sometimes I throw in, to the person sitting next to me, "Wow, I must be hungry", to which I usually get a pity chuckle. And on occasion I've found myself wishing for an imaginary friend that would bring me some imaginary food that would, at least in my imagination, end the misery.
Fortunately for me I have found my salvation in snack form. Before now I had tried virtually anything and everything to satisfy me with out throwing off my eating schedule. Sound the trumpets for this little bit of heaven on earth:
So simple. So yummy. So filling.
Try it out, I promise you'll love it. I have been stomach growl free for two class periods on this baby.
To my beloved readers I wish a wonderful Memorial Weekend, a full belly, and a pity laugh on my behalf.
Chelsea
A soft gurgling, it causes a frenzy. Internally I'm freaking out. As subtly as humanly possible, my arms creep up to my stomach and get in position, ready to tightly fold over my menace of a stomach at a moment's notice. The ultimate feeling of emptiness comes next. I feel hollow and my body knows it. All of my muscles tighten, the little hairs on my arms jump up, every nerve in my body in tune with my teeny tiny stomach. Then, as if out of no where, it comes. The deep grumble. We're not talking little rock slide grumble. We're talking Mt. Vesuvius grumble.
Nobody around me will make eye contact or acknowledge that an earthquake just took place next to them, but they are all thinking "Hmmm...she should probably eat" or "Wow, I'm willing to bet that this girl never eats", and the most likely "Huh...I thought Mt. St. Helen's was in Washington". j
Everyone's been there. It's incredibly awkward and personally irritating. Generally my response to the situation above is silence. Sometimes I throw in, to the person sitting next to me, "Wow, I must be hungry", to which I usually get a pity chuckle. And on occasion I've found myself wishing for an imaginary friend that would bring me some imaginary food that would, at least in my imagination, end the misery.
Fortunately for me I have found my salvation in snack form. Before now I had tried virtually anything and everything to satisfy me with out throwing off my eating schedule. Sound the trumpets for this little bit of heaven on earth:
So simple. So yummy. So filling.
Try it out, I promise you'll love it. I have been stomach growl free for two class periods on this baby.
To my beloved readers I wish a wonderful Memorial Weekend, a full belly, and a pity laugh on my behalf.
Chelsea
