DISCLAIMER: This post may gross you out!
It's times like these that I am glad that I am still veiled under anonymity. If not, how could I share with you this little gem...?
I pooped my pants this weekend. For the first time since I was 3. Does this give me street cred?
My personal mortification about this is suffocating me. I am coming clean and no one has to read any further if I am making you gag.
Late Friday night, I started feeling awful. Feverish, achy, tummy pains, just terrible.
I was rolling all over the bed, so I decided to get up and sleep on my couch and let Crush rest in the bed. I had tons of Bravo shows to catch up on to distract me from my symptoms.
Well, after a night of restless couch sleep peppered with the sounds of Reza, Nene, Pascale and Lisa, I woke up mid-morning, covered in sweat. Stiff, crampy and alone. I guess in the midst of my zonked out state, Crush left to catch up on work. I was taking an inventory of my condition when I felt a stomach pain like no other wash over me. It doubled me over. I got up as soon as my feverish self allowed me so I could get to the restroom ASAP, but it was too late. Very Charlotte-like in Sex and The City (the movie). If the ladies of SATC poop in their trousers, everyone must, right?! It's quite fashionable and fabulous so I have heard.
If anyone out there has ever thought (I am sure none of you have), wow, Ready and Fading is cool. Well, please consider that I poop my pants sometimes, too.
As a blogger, I find that there are times (a lot of them) that I have to write about things just to get over 'em and let them go. Meaning: as soon as I poop my pants you'll know about it, too. I hope you're feeling better!
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