Let me explain. I am one of the lucky ones, as far as stomachs go.

I’m sure everyone knows what my primary or basic job is. I’m supposed to receive product called food and drink by humans, break it down and process it in such a way that Fred’s entire body is nourished and stays healthy. It is a serious business and a difficult job for each and every stomach. But I say I am lucky to be Fred’s stomach because he treats me right. He makes my job easier.

So first …and this is very important, when Fred eats, Fred eats slowly. He chews his food well enough that I can break it down much easier than my stomach friends in other humans who are “bombed" with giant bites by their hosts.

Then …and this is very important, Fred eats in a leisurely manner. He takes a little time to enjoy his food. In return, that gives me time to tell him when I am starting to get full. Actually I am almost “full" when I have about half the product in me that I can handle without stretching or bursting. And with that signal to Fred, he almost never over-feeds me, knowing it only causes me to expand and forces me to store the excess food as fat. Fred apparently realizes he is not a bear and does not have to over-eat to store fat for a long winter’s sleep.

Then …and this is very important, I have noticed that Fred does not feel compelled to “clean his plate." I know from hearsay – most humans learned they should do so. But with humans being served very large portions, larger than their parents or grandparents ever had, why should they hand this problem to their stomachs (and my other neighbors)? Thanks, Fred, for not feeling compelled to lick your plate – at home or at a restaurant. You are truly helping me and my friends do the job. We all appreciate that.

Then …and this is very important, Fred drinks enough water with his food to allow me to use it to help break down his food and keep him (and my immediate neighbors) hydrated. By drinking water with his meal, I not only have the tool I need to help me do my job, but the water helps me communicate to Fred that he is getting full. Thank God, I may not have to stretch to the breaking point! Fred gets the message.

Then …and this is very important, every day (almost) Fred eats a meal that human’s call breakfast. I need this meal to help me wake up and get to work. Without it, I’ll take a nap and then when Fred does send food and drink my way it is often too much to process properly. Thanks, Fred, for being considerate.

Then …and this is very important, Fred tries to spread his food intake – the product he sends me (and my neighbors) to process - over the course of each day. I usually receive product three times a day, sometimes four when Fred feels like working me a little harder. But he always helps me out by not sending too much each time. Thanks, Fred, you know my limits.

Then …and this is very important, when Fred is about to send me to bed, he is careful about sending me too much food to process. After all …and let’s be reasonable about this …how can I properly process ANYTHING when I am sleeping? Let alone food that none of my neighbors want!

Then …and this is very important, Fred never sends me too much of any one product. He sends me a little of everything, understanding that I’ll know what to do with each and every item. I pride myself on being able to process some carbs, some fats, some starch, some sugars, some proteins – you name it – I can handle it. But Fred knows not to send me too much of any one item or I will not be able to find a slot big enough for all of it.

Then …and this is very important, Fred takes me for a walk almost every day. He knows I enjoy his company, but he also knows that taking that walk helps me do my job. I also hear a cheer from most of my immediate neighbors when Fred takes that walk. We all love it.

As a stomach, I love living with, and working for, Fred. I feel sorry for my other stomach friends that are not as fortunate as I am. Fred is my best friend. I will remain his best friend, too.

Thanks, Fred, for caring about me and my neighbors. You are a great guy, a considerate 5 foot 9 inch tall human who weighs 167 pounds and whose blood pressure is considered perfect. We have done this together. I could not do it alone.

I will write another note, Fred, when we are 90 and bragging about the great grandstomachs.