An open letter to my tonsils

Dear throat testicles,

Not to be uncouth here, but I am so very glad that we’ve at long last parted ways. You’ve literally been pains in my neck all my life. Ruining birthdays, Christmas, Prom, possibly even NaNoWriMo. As far back as I can remember, you were demanding my attention. You may have thought you were doing me some kind of favor when you forced me to stay home from school in the first grade, but seventeen days was a bit much, don’t you think? And high school? Thanks to you, I had more dates with my sixty-year-old doctor than I did with anyone my own age. Everyone kept saying you’d eventually back off. Shrivel up. Behave like adult tonsils. But you never did. I realized it was time to say goodbye when you started doing more than just giving me a sore throat. Tonsil stones? Bad breath? Ring any bells? I’m sorry, but when you start hampering with a girl’s love life, you’ve done crossed the line.

Yes, it’s true, you had your benefits. I’ve kept my weight down over the years partially because it hurt to swallow half the time and partially because ya’ll were like massive bouncers to that all-exclusive club called My Stomach, only letting the really smooth and small stuff pass through. The Paris Hiltons of food, if you will. And sure, I was probably more popular at social gatherings than I might have been otherwise because of you. A party needing a little pick-me-up? I could be the freak show that was passed around with the Chex mix. Nobody could look down my throat without yelling something like, “Oh my Gawwwd! Hey Stacy, come look at these!” At Halloween, I could sit on the front porch with a flashlight to my mouth and tell the kiddos that I’d just swallowed some kitty brains. More than anything though, you were good for bringing traffic to my blog. This month alone, forty-seven people visited me that might not have otherwise… all because I bitched about you a couple of times. I can only imagine how many more will flock to me after this letter.

Maybe that’s why I was feeling sort of wistful yesterday as I looked at you in the mirror one last time. We grew up together! We’ve had some ups and downs… all right, mostly downs. But now, when I open my mouth, there’s a gray void back there. And blood clots. And pain. And phlegm (nobody warned me about the phlegm). I have to keep reminding myself that this is temporary. That I’ll feel better in no time. That, like my children, having you guys physically removed from my body was truly for the best. No question, it was a very dysfunctional relationship, and for that I’ll never forget you. I’ll never replace you. And I’ll forever be thankful that you left without a fight.

Yours truly,

Catherine

P.S. If I lose NaNoWriMo, I’m totally blaming you.