That's Life - A-poop-poop-dee-doop

 

WARNING:  This post is NOT for squeamish people. 

A long time ago, in a place far away...

Actually, no.  

It was a place close by.  In fact, very close by, because it was right here.  After all, it happened to me.

You know, I've always wondered about those stories that start with that whole "far far away" thing.  Even as a child, I was skeptical.  I mean, seriously.  If it happened that far from you and way before you were born, Mr Storyteller, how the fuck do you know anything about it?

But I digress.

So let's begin again, and be more honest about it.

...

...

...

A short time ago, in a place nearby, yours truly was having, as the TV ads like to euphemistically call it: "Tummy Trouble."

I could bore you with the combination of factors - illness, stress, medication, bla bla bla - that contributed to the condition.  But, frankly, who cares?  I had the problem, I'd tried some solutions, it was time to find another one.

So I decided to make an appointment at a lovely place where they give colonics.

Don't freak out.  Colonics can be very healthy if not overused/abused/done badly.  

In fact, I had one a week and then another the day before my surgery, ensuring my colon was empty.  Keep in mind that anaesthetic completely stops your colon and it can take time to get it going again after surgery.  You want to have food sitting in there for 4 days?  Not me, Mate.  I went into that operating theatre all shiny and ready in all sorts of ways.

If you don't know what a colonic is, let me enlighten you.  A tube is gently inserted into your lubed up bumhole and your colon is slowly filled with water which loosens everything up.  Then it is allowed to head out the other way (no harsh suckage, don't worry).  It's also odor free, so don't freak out.  You are nicely covered up with a blanket, have your knees propped up on a bolster pillow and your tummy massaged by the therapist.

Sometimes, things don't "release" (their term).  Or they take some time to get going.

On this day, nothing was moving.  That's not a problem.  A colonic hydrates you, even if there aren't results when you are still "plugged in."  The rule, in cases like this, is to make sure you stay at the nice colonic and massage place afterwards to wait until your body is ready to let go.

I broke this rule.

Worried about my dogs left at home, because of my errands and appointments, for four hours, I wanted to get back and let them out to potty.

There's an ironic comment in that somewhere, but I'll let you find your own version of it.

And so I paid, and left.

Five minutes down the road, my body gave me a clear signal that the time was NOW.

Should I turn around and go back?

No.

It would be too embarrassing to run hell for leather into their nice Zen environment and head straight for their loo while whooping "It worked!  It worked!"

So I kept driving.  Hold on, I told myself, it'll be fine.

It wasn't fine.

I saw a coffee shop ahead.  I turned a 180 degree into their car park.  I got out of the car and lumbered in, limping in a strange combination of trying to hurry, and keeping my butt as clenched as a bank vault.

Well, you know what's coming next, don't you?  If it had worked, I wouldn't be telling you all this.

As I am walking into the coffee shop, there is, of course, a line for the counter which I have to cross.

Then the spritting starts.  

Imagine a baby projectile-vomiting poop out of your ass while you are fully dressed and trying to walk nochalantly past 7 people.

Yes, my dears, it really was as  bad as I am describing it.

Thank God - thank you, thank you, thank you God - the restroom was free.

And then, as they say, the bottom fell out of my world.

A relief, yes, but then I had to deal with how much of the world had fallen into my clothes.

It's amazing how inventive you can be in these situations.  How you can wash, dry and rearrange what you have so that the irrevocably damaged elements are discarded, the odor evidence is mitigated, the environment is completely cleansed and your outfit is reconstructed so you don't betray a hint of what just happened.

I know what you're wondering...  No, the people I walked past did not smell anything.  Trust me, the hyrdration part of colonics makes sure that doesn't happen.

And so, reset button pushed, I emerged from the restroom and ordered a latte I had no intention of drinking.  I overtipped in a big way simply because the coffee shop had offered me a port in a storm.

And I made my way - a considerably lighter way - home.

To read more of the That's Life series, click the Tag below or the link on the left.

You might like reading about:

• The collections I have which no one would pay for
• Best and worst places to fart