Shitwreck

Digestive issues run rampant through my body after surgery. My primary issue seems to be lactose intolerance, where anything in dairy form seems to enter my body in the most delicious form and exit in the most voracious and unappealing of ways.

 

For your consideration, I shall present three examples to gain your understanding before I quickly lose your faithful readership faster than Britney Spears loses hair, talent, underwear, credibility, money, family, and her children.

 

Example one: Caramel macchiato, sugar-free vanilla, non-fat milk, light foam.

Example two: Vanilla ice-cream, hot fudge and peanut butter.

Example three: Pizza

 

You see, it just runs right through me now. Without so much as a tummy rumble, what you could consider the alarm clock of digestive issues, waking you up to prepare you that QUITE POSSIBLY you may want to be in the vicinity near a toilet at some point in the future, my body now has gone from resorting from acting like a peaceful country avoiding war conflict, and now all I feel is this sudden twinge and immediately sirens blare and DEFCON 1!, DEFCON 1!, DEFCON 1!, starts chirping out as I squeeze my thighs tightly together and hobble off to the nearest loo.

 

The Payroll Nazi at work is known for similar issues. I have deftly managed for three years to avoid the work restroom between the hours of 1 to 3 p.m. because of the lingering scent of old lady shit stench that cannot be masked by industrial-strength sanitising air spray. And now I am her. An old lady with digestive issues whose shit really stinks.

 

I had an early morning meeting at Starbucks and on my two-minute drive back to the office my body started blaring that damn DEFCOM 1 signal. I ran-walked-clenched-squeezed my legs through three security doors, left my belongings in my office, continued to engage my sphincter muscles as I hobbled to the other side of the building, past the receptionist who suddenly wanted to engage me in conversation as I mustered a 'not now - in a rush' with one of those pained looks on my face, and then mere seconds later felt the most awkward and uncomfortable yet sweet relief known to mankind.

 

Until someone walked in. And choked. And went... well, I think it was, "Err-ohhh-ugggghhhhh". Then she quickly left.

 

And to be honest? I'm actually kind of proud.