I’m being trolled.

By Riley.

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I don’t have a picture of my rock hard abs on a good day, but they’re basically/sort of/exactly like/ if you squint the right way/absolutely nothing like Emily’s. 

I’ve been on social media for a few years now and have remained relatively unscathed in terms of any negative reactions to my drunk Facebook posts or cliché food pics on Instagram. But as of late I’ve found myself a victim of a different type of troll, one much closer to home — my gut.

Once firm friends, I look back fondly on happier times. Memories of pizza, of fried food, of pastries as big as my face — #food #nom #cheatday etc. In a second that all changed. A furious wrath that only a troll would know took my insides prisoner and wouldn’t let up until I’d shat myself sideways for three days straight.

So what the hell is going on? I’ve been binging on wheat, gluten, fibre all my life… why now? I’ll hold my hands up and say that until recently, I thought IBS had become a bit of a trend among women who were wishing up reasons for trying diets without admitting that they were trying diets. Savage, I know. Little did I know the joke was on me and I’d soon be hit with week-long episodes of stomach cramping, gas and sometimes even vomit. I didn’t truly know what bloated was until I turned 25. Sure, the skin problems from your teenage years clears up and stretch marks are NBD anymore, but in its place is a brand new stress that is just as consuming.

Let me spell it out for you – THIS BITCH LIKES TO EAT. I like to eat out. I like to eat in. I like to eat after I’ve eaten, when my body is telling me I can’t eat anymore. You can imagine the trauma when I had to start second guessing everything I was putting in my mouth, and the nerves of waiting for the aftermath that sometimes never even came.

Much like a troll, IBS never lets you know when it’s coming, what it wants, or if it’s going to draft in an entire army to defeat you. It is incapable of empathy and it can smell fear. How do we beat the trolls? We address the problem. We share our stories and find strength in numbers. We find Instagram accounts with similar issues, we read up more on what should actually be entering our bodies, we grow.

Have you been a victim of digestive trolling? Come say hey! We can all pine for pastries together.