Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Caution: The blog you are about to read is not for the faint of heart. Please consult your doctor before reading if you have non-humorous stickuptheass-itis or take laughter inhibitors. You should also contact your doctor before partaking in the following laughing exercises, as some may be hazardous to your health. Signs that you suffer from this disease may include: total disgust at the brutal honesty contained in this entry, lack of the ability to imagine the enclosed scenarios without violently throwing up and the inability to eat or swallow the shit I am about to toss in your general direction.
With that said, have no fear, for the psycho-maniacal, mood altering, laugh-till-your-gut-busts woman of a million faces is back!!! I don’t even know where to begin but I started to feel lost without time to put my thoughts into words. Instead they have been swimming around in the muddle that is my mind and creeping into my dreams, making a peaceful nights sleep pretty much non-existent.
Can I just start out by saying, food has become like porn for my eyes. I know I shouldn’t look, or want it, (or lick it), but I am pulled into the fantasy of it all and I want to be a part of its dirty little world again. Watching someone scarf down a hamburger with a side of greasy, delicious fries is like girl on girl action to a nymphomaniac man whore. It is beautiful, and I shouldn’t be looking, but I just want a little taste. Just a bite. Or a lick. Does this make me bi-foodual? I love eating healthy and losing weight, and I feel absolutely amazing physically, but I still want to go out and have a 2 AM slop dog and an order of chili cheese fries that I will totally regret in the morning. After this is all said and done, the only food I may never be able to stomach again is chicken, because it hates me, and goes into my belly and then immediately comes right back out of my mouth. I would say chicken is the equivalent of full bush porn. You only eat (watch) it when all other food/porn options have been exhausted.
And to top it all off, I have now officially have lost enough weight that I have been crowned with the honor of having front butt. No lie. My stomach is shrinking and doing things that are NOT attractive. Like splitting down the middle, just below my bellow button so that it looks like I have two asses. And the messed up thing is I can’t poop out of either one. Which sucks, because I thoroughly enjoy pooping. I love the release of pressure on my belly, and the fact that when I am done I feel like I can wear a smaller pair of pants. But I have been DENIED this pooping glory time and time again since the surgery. And I have to wonder – what does my body DO with the poop? Is it like some form of alternative energy now? Is my body taking the poop and turning it into fuel? I don’t know, but it’s a pretty shitty situation.
In light of my non-pooping, and the fact that I am going back to the doctor next week and don’t want to carry one extra pound with me, I have designated an entire day to the art of pooping. I will paint my intestines with some Mylanta, accessorize it with an Ex-Lax or two, and hopefully end up with a white porcelain slate covered in beautiful brown poo. My only two goals for today are 1) get out all the poop I possibly can and 2) manage not to get any one me. Sounds simple, right?
Wish me luck folks, I’m going in.