I have read many a blogger’s poo posts since I’ve been an active participant in Bloggie World, which is why, on this fine 12/12/12 day, I have chosen to regale you with a couple poo stories of yore of my own. I’m not ashamed to admit my own poo foibles which have been, well, shitty the last few weeks. Get ready for some poo TMI! And complaints about poo!
To start with, there is a 24/7 sig alert going on in my colon right now, and it’s not pretty. I am backed up to high hell, and even when I do poo, it’s like there is a “shit ton” more that needs to exit my body, it’s just taking its sweet ass time. I’m already prone to hemorrhoids, so this whole “pooing every three days” thing is irritating the hell out of them. I may start buying tampons for my ass hole. This morning, after not pooing for 3 days, I excitedly felt “the urge” and with a flourished bow at the bathroom entrance, closed the door to do my bidness. Not only was my poo like, 8 feet long, I still felt like there was more that wouldn’t come out! Not to mention, the python that exited my ass, once again, ripped me a new one and had me frantically checking to see if the blood was coming from ass or vag. My stomach still feels bloated and distended.
And the funny thing is, I would take this feeling every day if it means I get to hold my baby in my arms after all of this.
Since we’re on the subject of poo, I thought I would bring up this little blast from the past–my most embarrassing poo story ever! I was 17 years old, in my senior year of high school, and dating a guy who was a sophomore in college (God help me if I have a daughter…). He had invited me to his dorm room one night for some activities that did not involve knitting or Scrabble. Earlier in the day, before I headed out to THE COLLEGE (I was soooo mature) I had gone out with a few friends to Venice Beach to hang out and spend the day. For those who don’t know what Venice Beach is, it’s a place where very dirty hippies hang out, men rollerblade in cut off shorts, and food stands cannot be trusted (I’ll get to that in a moment). Venice is where the cool kids go when they are still too young to drink. I was not a cool kid, but liked to imagine myself as one, so there I was. On Venice Beach. Near a food stand called “Big Daddy’s”. My friends and I decided to chance it and order something for lunch. I chose probably the most “iffy” thing on the menu–a cheeseburger.
It came out, and something about it just smelled off, but I convinced myself it was the Cheeze Whiz they used on the burger, rather than real cheese. I took one bite, noticed (after I swallowed) that something still tasted “off”, and threw the rest of the burger away (not before taking the above picture). My friend and I even took a picture to commemorate the most awful meal ever, and you know, to prove we had eaten there, in case I died.) I’m the one on the left. Fashion sense? Not so much.
So aaaanyway. It was time to pack up from Venice and head to a college dorm room for some underage shennanigans! When I got there, my stomach was gurgling a bit, but I ignored it. College Boy and I hung out for a bit, and then, let’s just say, things got a little saucy. Literally. He wanted to experiment with food stuff, and had chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and hand cuffs. (Again. God, I will be ever so grateful for EITHER a boy or a girl should I be so fortunate, but please…help me through the teenaged years if I have a daughter.)
I agreed to be handcuffed to the bed, and then have food stuff poured on me. It was in no way sexy, and I was pretty much laughing through it all. Until my stomach went from “gurgling” to full on “freak out” mode. It happened pretty quickly…I experienced stomach pains that felt as though someone was simultaneously ripping my intestines out, and wringing them at the same time. Embarrassed, and still thinking it would all just go away, I didn’t tell College Boy to stop making out with me, and unlock me from my handcuffs.
No, I made the biggest poo blunder you can make when you are about to have the worst case of food poisoning in your life. I waited until it was too late. As soon as the words, “Oh my God, you need to uncuff me right now” left my lips, my poisoned intestines emptied. I shit on his bed. On myself. On him. To make matters worse, he couldn’t find the key right away, and fumbled with the lock.
Most embarrassing moment of my entire life.
I spent the rest of the night crying and locked in the bathroom throwing up and shitting everywhere. He was not amused or very sympathetic, and the whole thing goes down in history as the worst experience with a boy I’ve ever had. Fortunately for him, I had realllly low self esteem, and I continued to see him afterwards, even though he was a total dick to me during the whole food poisoning experience. He’s now an orthodontist.
So there you go! Two amazing poo stories for the price of one!
I’m glad I wrote this entry. It is distracting me from the fact that I am obsessively symptom spotting and praying for reassuring nausea every day.