My dear friend Angela knew I seldom drank water. It’s not that I have any aversion to it. I find water very refreshing. Since I don’t drink beer, have sworn off carbonated beverages and as a diabetic need to avoid sweet drinks, it is the most obvious replacement for keeping hydrated. Angela casually revealed that doctors recommend we consume half our body weight in ounces of water each day. In my case that is 100 ounces. So I stocked up on 50 ounce bottles of spring water. At a buck a bottle I wondered if its actual source was a ‘natural’ hose hooked up to a municipal water spigot someplace. What natural water source has a lingering chlorine taste.
Initially I felt guilty about using so much plastic, enviornmental concerns and all. I also wondered which back country bucolic spring was being drained by the huge industrial straws that wouldn’t finish sucking until they hit sand and stone. But for my health’s sake I continued with my regimen.
On Day One I drank 60 ounces. Not a bad start but clearly not enough. By Day Two 80 ounces had passed my lips. I seemed to be on a roll. This continued day after day. I couldn’t stop peeing. My underwear never dried. I began to fear my bladder would burst through my side like an alien appendage. I figured I could always throw a sock over it an claim it was an extra foot. I began to imagine my brain’s dialogue with the rest of my body:” What the fuck is going on with this guy? Is he drowning? Where’s all the goddamn water coming from? Hey lungs, bladder, why didn’t one of you alert me? Why am I the LAST one to know? Continue making him pee. If need be schedule an intense fluid release after he’s gone to sleep. That should fix his ass!”
I hope my efforts to provide my cellular structure with moisture enough to function will succeed. If there is another way to accomplish this I’m sure my Dear Angela will tell me. In the meantime, bottoms up!