It burrrrrrrns.

It's OK, guy with the sour face and hand upon his chest, I feel your pain.

I've come across the phenomenon known as heartburn. I thought heartburn, and its cousin acid reflux, only happened to slightly-overweight men in their late 50s who eat at the local greasy spoon where the cook knows his "usual," and the woman sitting next to him always offers a Tums after he reluctantly eats the throbbing cheeseburger on his plate.

And then comes the sour face. The hand on the chest.

"Tuuuums Tum-Tum-Tums!"

Or at least that's what TV commercials taught me to believe.

But no, Friends, it happens to average-sized, 24-year-old women, too. Women who eat peanut butter toast for breakfast, and sip green tea all day. Women who, until recently, thought the only problems a heart could have include -attack and -break.

(Let me just quickly interject, however, and say I'd prefer heartburn over heartbreak any day. Oh, and probably heart attack, too).

I've had a burning sensation along the esophageal region for multiple days now. And man, I sound like I know what I'm talking about when I say "esophageal region." Never mind that I had to Google it.

A friend gave me a Rolaid this morning, which made my face pucker worse that the actual heartburn. I never ate chalk as a wee one, but I imagine the experience is quite similar. Needless to say, I still have heartburn.

So I have only one thing to say. And that's:

Dear Heart,
Please, please knock-it-off. Save yourself for when I actually need you. Like, when your arteries are clogged or something. Thanks. Write back soon.