The Growling

Okay.  So I decided to take the plunge and sign up for my doctor's Opti-Fast diet.  Two liquid meals, two low-calorie snacks, and one 400 calorie "real" dinner each day.  My stomach (I shall call her Beatrice) has grown accustomed to a cornucopia of Satan food; French fries, warm bread with real butter, etc.  You get my drift.  Imagine how Beatrice felt the moment I broke the news.  "Hey Bitch,  no more food for you."  Well - she let me know of her displeasure.  Day and night.  Night and day.  The complaining.  The grumbling.  She even began to gnaw on herself.  After four days, however, Beatrice surrendered.  No more growling.  Just a limp attempt at a yelp.  Now my brain (I shall call her Alise) is fucking with me.  Turning off the switches to my mouth.  Making me slur my words or forget them altogether.  This Bitch is going to be harder to suppress.