My stomach plummets so fast, scientists should study me. They should whisk me off to sea, track down a pod of deep-sea diving whales, and challenge them to a race. Then, all they’d have to do is put a hot guy in front of me and make him say, “Is this you?” and my stomach would drop, propelling me straight to the ocean floor faster than anything. Put me up against the baddest bitch in that pod. Bet I’d win.
