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An Open Letter to the Star Ginger Noodle Bowl That Gave Me Diarrhea

It’s been almost two years now. You probably think I’ve forgotten all about you, but the truth is, I can’t let my guard down for even a second since you did me wrong. You were so good to me for so long, but I can’t deny the fact that because of you I nearly pooped my pants in the middle of a full lecture in Goessman Lab.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to point any fingers here. I watched in awe that day as a friendly Star Ginger employee curated a ramen masterpiece just for me. Perhaps I was blinded by my own pride, thinking I was gifted with bowels of gold and was impervious to food poisoning, and especially from you—the one I loved so much. Or maybe the UMass Dining executives ordered in a batch of discount curry broth that week. 

Nonetheless, while I was sitting in class, barely halfway through a quiz on Plato’s Republic, a surprise category five hurricane swept across my lower stomach. I couldn’t even answer the last question because at this point my clenched butthole was asking all the relevant questions in my life. I didn’t really know the answer in the first place because I didn’t do the readings the night before. So for that I thank you, but at what cost to me?

I almost didn’t make it. I spent days in bed thinking about how our relationship loosened more quickly than my bowels. I hardly slept because of you. I was constantly racing to the bathroom that my roommate and I shared. That day I learned she was a true friend. Not some fake like you, who gave me explosive diarrhea for 48 ruthless hours.

I shamefully emailed excuse after excuse to professors telling them I was feeling a bit under the weather, but we all knew the truth deep down: whatever demon Blue Wall laid inside of me was taking a blow with a greater force than all of the blows the brass section of the UMass marching band takes during the “GO U!” chant.

And while I’m not usually the type to call my mom crying, you left me desperate for help. She is the only registered nurse whom I know personally, and I didn’t want to write “feels like flaming hot snakes are trying to escape from my butt, please help” on one of those forms at UHS.

To put it simply, you ruined me. I still struggle to solidify myself. I used to be resilient, but you made me soft. Admittedly I am a more watered down version of who I used to be, but I am confident I will float on without you, not unlike your bok choy leaves that my body could not fully digest.

To this day classmates naively ask if I’ve eaten a Star Ginger pho noodle bowl since that messy break up many Blue Wall trips ago. While the answer seems obvious enough, I just simply respond to them: Absolutely! Do you think I’m a stupid idiot? Those things are goddamn delicious. Number one dining, baby!

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