#inducing frustrations

Doctors should really study my ass (well, my nervous system and diaphragm, at least).

I have eaten the spicy.

I have drunk the sparkly (and opened my throat to breathe in the burp air and burp out the burp air).

I have been the indigestion.

I am the GERD.

I own the IBS.

I have taken the drugs with the listed side effects (not for the Purpose of Inducing, but because I needed them).

I have poked.

I have prodded.

I have panted.

I have underindulged.

I have overindulged.

I have laughed until I cried and until I literally depleted my oxygen.

I have been tickled.

I am an incredible specimen of never getting hiccups.

I donate my body to be studied in honor of those with intractable, chronic, persistent hiccups.

If you promise me just one thing.

Just...gimme the ability to hiccup once a month. Just tell me what to safely irritate. Frazzle my phrenic just a skosh. Not enough to fuck anything up, just to increase my proneness just a wee bit.

Please. Please sir. Just a little. Not long, bad, uncontrollable. Just a nice experience.

This belly is too soft and pliable not to be able to be allowed to jiggle involuntarily for just a few minutes, you know?

There’s also the fear that my efforts would amount to nothing but disappointment. Yet another session of wasted time.

The danger. The unpredictability. It scares me. But it also excites me, which in turn scares me. Am I setting my expectations too high?

Fear must be holding me back. Because if I were actually trying, I would have gotten them by now.