Warning - The following blog is extremely gross and not intended for the weak of stomach. If you are easily nausiated or grossed out please step away from this blog. The blogs to the right of my posts are much better suited to a gentile spirit. Please, think about this before you continue to read this blog....Oh God, you're still reading...okay, you have been warned.
This post should shine as a warning to all those thinking about going on a diet of mostly eggs, meat, and green leafy vegetables.
The first few days were great. I lost at least a pound or more a day. I had
to eat three meals and two snacks a day. Being a proud member of the Clean Plate Club, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Tuesday afternoon I felt discomfort in my lower back. I had increased weights on my regular gym routine; so I didn't give it a second thought. By Wednesday morning I couldn't rotate my torso on one of the Nautalis machines. Hmmm, maybe I pulled something on Monday.
Wednesday afternoon I found the urge to meditate on my boring corporate job, from the women's restroom - every 10 - 15 minutes. And now my stomache added a dull cramping to the mix.
Ten minutes into my 40 minute Wednesday afternoon commute home - my whole lower GI warned me to pull over. Yeah, where? Its all highway miles! Thank God for Lamaze classes (22 years ago)!
In the early stages of labor - long cleansing breaths. I was way beyond that and heading into "transition" - Hee Hee Hah, Hee Hee Hah - You're fine, you're fine, you're gonna be okay...
I had this horrible urge to push. I fought the urge with all my might! I broke out into a clamy cold sweat. Oh, thank God, 39th Expressway
(which is a sick joke really; there's nothing express about it) I spot a Taco Bueno on the right, but apparently Wednesday is "Asshole Drivers Day" and I was pushed further upstream in the middle lane on 39th.
The second wave washed over me at 39th and Ann Arbor. Hee Hee Hee Hee Hah, Hee Hee Hee Hee Hah
Hair plastered to my cheeks and forehead as the cold sweat runs down my face. My hands are numb from the grip I have on the steering wheel. I'm okay, I'm fine, I'm fine, I just want to get home.
The intestinal insurgency declared war on the third wave. I could do nothing to stop the rebel forces of three days of a diet gone horribly wrong. There was nothing to do but roll down the windows. I thought of a Comedy Central's Margaret Cho special I saw last year. I was mortified, discusted and yet not alone. I have to thank Ms. Cho for being there in my hour of need - because her experience, stuck in L.A. traffic with the same lower GI adventure, is the only thing keeping me out of therapy.
Pulling up into my driveway - kids playing outside, the new neighbor watering her flower bed - Oh Lord, please make me invisible until I get in the house
. Opening the front door I called for my unsuspecting husband. The man, who for nearly 16 years has heard me fart only once. This is gonna blow his mind.
He ran the shower for me...a little too cold. And since he was there - why not take a pee? When the cool water hit my shaken body - the insurgency declared Armageddon. By now, my mind has separated from my body and is observing (with commentary) Oh man! I had no idea my stomache could hold that much stuff. Damn, I ate those mushrooms three days ago. Jeez, puking in the shower is really loud!
Once over, I cleaned the shower, thanked God for Margaret Cho and leather car seats (had they been cloth I would have thrown the car away). I made myself a cup of Earl Grey and saw my husband staring into the T.V. "Are you okay?" I asked him. His voice soft and kind of far away "Yeah, I'm okay." "Are you grossed out?" I asked. A half-smile "Yeah, kinda."
"They should add a detailed list when they ask 'For better, for worse'." I said as I gingerly sipped my tea.
"Yeah, no shit."