Letter from an Exhausted Liver Cell

Dear Owner,
it is 11:45 PM and I am currently processing a fourth glass of wine, potato chips, spicy sausage, and something marketed as a "fitness bar". Are you serious?

I would politely like to remind you that I am part of your liver, not an all-powerful magician. I have been working for you non-stop for decades. No vacations, no weekends off, and if memory serves, I have never even received a bonus for post-Christmas banquet cleanup.

Yet I don't complain, and I usually get the job done. The real problem starts when I receive several emergency work orders all at once.

Like tonight.

The first glass at 8:14 PM was fine. No trouble at all.
At 8:52 PM came the second. My detoxification colleague simply raised an eyebrow.
At 9:37 PM arrived the third. Accompanied by spicy sausage and chips.
By 10:16 PM, we were officially falling behind schedule.

Then came the "fitness bar". I don't know who gave it that name, but I would genuinely love to meet that person in private. I have a few choice questions for them.

Don't get me wrong. I view my work as a sacred calling. Together with my cell colleagues, we willingly process nutrients, regulate blood sugar, and neutralize substances that shouldn't linger in your bloodstream.

However, we are not a washing machine where you can cram in everything at once, press the "LIVER" cycle, and head off to sleep.

I ask you for only one thing: please stop treating the laws of biology as a set of non-binding recommendations. Unlike you, we actually have to obey them.

Now please excuse me. We just received an alarming dispatch from the stomach.

The pistachios have arrived.

If this continues, we might just form a union.