The Belly

 

That morning I noticed how my belly had suddenly grown, without any apparent reason. I got up, and when I looked in the mirror, I saw that creepy change, and it almost felt like I was seeing a foreign body attached to me: a bulging belly. I've always considered myself a thin and fit guy, and I just don't understand how this bulge in my body could have grown so quickly. I didn't like what I saw at all, and I thought I should start exercising and forget butter and chocolate. I had no idea what the real problem was.

The gravity of the problem started to unfold when I tried to put on my clothes and couldn't manage it. I had worn the same trousers the day before, and now they wouldn't fit any longer. I had to go out with the biggest shirt I had, unbuttoned, and I needed to use a cord through the belt loops of my trousers to hold them up. Before going to the office, I had to buy new clothes, but it didn't prevent my colleagues from making the usual silly jokes that people make in these situations, further emphasizing the extent of the problem. I struggled to keep my composure and resolved to find a solution as soon as possible.

I returned home after work and started thinking. I remembered a text on evolutionary psychology that I had studied when I was in university, particularly a passage that described the aging process of humans and their ability to accept it based on their personal level of success, but nothing came to mind that could explain why a body can change so rapidly from one moment to the next. “Come on Fab, just stop worrying now and start with a diet and exercise”, I thought.

The next day, my belly grew far bigger. I got up and realized it covered the view of my feet. I rang the doctor.

-Tell me, - he said over the phone.

I have a stomach problem.

-Does it hurt? - he asked. I explained that my belly had grown a lot and very quickly in a completely inexplicable manner.

Come in next week. At that moment, the buttons of the shirt I had bought the day before, which I had struggled to button up, came undone and flew against the wall in front of me. I saw a crack opening on my belly from which teeth emerged, and fleshy lips formed around it.

-Doctor, I think I'm going insane, - I said, - I see a mouth on my belly.

-Come in tomorrow at ten, - he replied immediately.

I tried to stay calm and sat on the couch to think, but it wasn't easy. For the first time in my life I was going mad -no doubt. I looked again at that bulging belly from above and that bizarre mouth that had formed, and it seemed absurd to be able to observe that transformation rationally, which could be nothing more than some kind of hallucination.

This is just a temporary situation," I thought, looking around, "nothing has changed at all: everything is in its place, I can reason, talk to the doctor on the phone, and explain what's happening. I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me. Maybe I should call an ambulance?"

I thought it was better not to, because if they admit me, who knows when I'll be able to go out again. I decided it would be wise to go buy some new clothes before being left with nothing to wear. Surely, being among people would help me regain my sanity, so I dressed as best I could and went out. I walked towards the city centre, in search of a clothing store when suddenly I heard a voice calling my name. I turned to see who was calling me, but I didn't see anyone. A few seconds later, that same hoarse voice called me again, but once more, I didn't see anyone. Finally, I realized it was my belly speaking:

I've got a bone to pick with you, stupid.

Good grief, this is all I needed - I thought - So I really have gone crazy.

My big belly kept calling me, but I decided not to pay it any mind because it seemed like the most rational thing to do in a situation like that.

You'd better listen to me, or you'll pay the consequences - it said.

As usual, I tried to keep calm and figure out what might have triggered these hallucinations, thinking that this is exactly what happens to people who suffer from schizophrenia. However, I was certain that the people passing by could notice my big belly and the talking mouth, and I saw them pause to look at me and laugh. This is when the worst part began.

I entered the clothing store, and as soon as I saw the shopkeeper, I rushed over to her. My belly noticed her presence and started speaking:

-This gentleman wants to buy a new shirt to blindfold me. He tried to deprive me of my right to expression throughout the journey. I want to assert my right to freedom and the right to see, so please be kind and don't give him any shirts. You can't deny me the right to see the world.

I tried to remain calm in such an unusual situation, and upon reflection, I thought the speech was too well-crafted to come from a brainless belly. Well, since I have only one brain, that speech couldn't be real but a product of my imagination. I had clear evidence of my madness in front of me.

And here's the kicker. The saleswoman started talking to my belly! Indeed, when my belly finished its speech about its rights, the saleswoman said to me, "I'm sorry, sir, I don't want to offend you, but you have a very strange sense of humour, and I don't understand."

-It's not him who's speaking - the belly told her.

The employee was visibly confused, realizing that the voice was indeed coming from below. But she wasn't more bewildered than I was, of course, as at that moment, I began to think that the belly must have its own life and consciousness, otherwise, it couldn't talk to the employee. Or maybe my madness reached a new level and escalated to the point to create interactions with other people. I was losing my ability to control my hallucinations. I decided that it was too complicated to understand my madness, and I'd better interact with the employee as naturally as possible.

-Miss, I suffer from a very rare condition. Please don't pay any attention to my crazy belly. Please bring me some large shirts that cover my belly well, and some black T-shirts. Very black.

-Not black! - the belly shouted.

-Don't worry - said the employee, - I'll do what the top mouth says.

"How could the employee know that the belly has a mouth?" I thought "I'll do what the top mouth says." And kept thinking “I hadn't told her anything about the other mouth, and if I did, I'm not clever enough to create a speech I don't hear or think but that ends up generating meaningful social interaction and confuses me”. Well, I thought, "a madness smarter than me can't exist because my brain is mine, so the belly exists and thinks." My Cartesian logic was irrefutable: "the belly bothers me, then it thinks; it thinks, then it exists." Well, Descartes wouldn't have done it like this; he would have made it more sophisticated. Who knows? Descartes did not have to deal with a talking belly. But in a hurry, buying the shirt, he would have developed a pragmatical approach, or come to philosophical conclusions like mine. "Damn. Maybe not. The employee said the top mouth. No more. Maybe the voice was mine, and I was ventriloquizing it in a way I don't know." What a mess.

I left the store as soon as I could. I walked along Francisco de Miranda Avenue in the heart of Caracas, where all this madness happened, contemplating how to apply the principles of logical positivism to falsify hypotheses about the existence of a belly with independent consciousness. It's impossible. Nothing can prevent me from my biased observation of the data. I can't prove my sanity. While I was making epistemological reflections, the belly said:

,-You're a bully...how dare you buy a black T-shirt. Inconsiderate. Sadistic!

 Passersby looked at me and laughed. Others hastened their pace and avoided me. Children told their mothers to look at me, and the mothers discreetly tried to prevent me from realizing that the children were watching me. And I kept walking. And the belly protested – what else could you possibly expect from a talking belly?

Some passersby looked at me and started to laugh, while others quickened their pace to avoid me, in fear. The only ones intrigued by the situation were the children, who pointed their fingers at me, trying to get their mothers' attention. I tried to avoid the gaze of others, but that belly wouldn't stop talking. “What a bad luck, Fabrizio, if you happen to get a talking belly, couldn’t you at least get a shy one?”
 At least I did not lose the humour together with my sanity.

I kept walking, listening to the crazy belly, and suddenly, I saw a tennis ball on the ground, and I got an idea. For the first time since that mouth appeared on my belly, I addressed it seriously:

-Now I'll fix you - I said to it.

I grabbed the tennis ball and lifted my shirt, but the belly, guessing my intentions, shouted firm and clear:

-If you stick that ball in my mouth, I'll chew your liver to bits.

-Good grief - I thought - better not risk it.

After a long negotiation, we agreed to a truce and made a pact of non-aggression. We arrived at Plaza Altamira, and there I decided to sit down and try to reason with that shamelessly extrovert belly. While the rest of the country was suspended, watching the protests against Chavez, I was dealing with that chatty belly. I couldn't believe that, in addition to being intelligent, it had my level of political experience, so I decided to try to turn that pact of non-aggression into a program of peaceful coexistence.

-Alright - I said to it - tell me what you want from me.

Without hesitation, the chatty bastard replied:

- So far, you've been the only one in control of this body, but it doesn't really belong to you. It's thanks to me that this body survives; I'm the one who nourishes it and processes all the food you consume. I want the power to decide. I'm interested in power.

I gathered my strength and replied:

Stop with this revolutionary nonsense! How can I transfer my decision-making power to you? How will I be able to do all the things I need to do, like going to work or studying? It's not that simple.

Stomachs, as everyone would expect, are very stubborn. Mine, with my luck, wasn’t going to be an exception.

-You do nothing for this body; we, your organs, do it all. I represent them all, and we have unanimously decided that you're superfluous, so we will eliminate you.

-But my body can't rise against me! Who am I? Am I nothing now? - I asked desperately.

-Nothing. You don't exist. You're a product of society, useless and irrelevant, like most of your kind. So, we, the bellies, have come together and decided to establish the dictatorship of "bellyriat" which will lead to a superior form of democracy.

Our absurd conversation went on for a long time, and people walking in Plaza began to drop coins at my feet. They believed I had staged a political show while talking to my belly, and they were willing to pay me to continue performing. Every time my belly reiterated the rights of the 'bellyariat,' everyone laughed. When our discussion ended, I realized I had accumulated a lot of money and thought I could make a living that way. After all, how could I go back to the office with that talking belly? So embarrassing. And so, with that idea in mind, I returned home as if it was a normal day.

The next morning, I was awakened by the angry voice of my belly protesting. It was complaining because it was getting bored, of all things. I looked at the clock and saw that I still had enough time to have breakfast before my doctor's appointment, so I went to the kitchen. Suddenly, as I was preparing something to eat, I saw a pair of hands and then two feet emerging from my belly. In a panic, I called the doctor and explained what was happening.

-Don't worry, - he said, - it often happens to people after forty. It's a condition known as 'abdominal dementia,' but as soon as the belly stops growing, the situation will normalize, and in fact, it imparts a strong practical sense in dealing with the challenges of aging. Unfortunately, science has not yet discovered the causes of this phenomenon.

Stunned by that response, I confirmed that I would go to the ten o'clock appointment. I hung up the phone, and at that moment, I saw a shoulder protruding from my abdomen. Shortly after, I was engulfed by my own body, and I became the belly of my belly, which turned into a body. I don't know what this body does, because I have neither eyes to see nor a mouth to protest, but I haven't lost my hearing, and I heard the doctor telling the hijacker not to worry because everything would return to normal soon.

I decided to organize a counter-revolution and I tried to talk to the kidneys and lungs, but they didn't take me seriously. The body liver intervened, and you know what it told me?

-Leave it like this, Fab, all politicians are the same.

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