Monday, August 10, 2009

Diarrhea, minus the happy ending.

I'm a moron. I'm the first to admit it. I have this tendency to get hooked on something and go balls out on it until I've paid the price. I then stop, cold turkey and move on, for a spell but, being a moron, I tend to drift back towards these stupid habits.

I do the no carb diet most of the time. I am fairly good at keeping my diet free of sugars, starches etc and, for the most part, my body is grateful. I lost over 70 pounds as a result (7 years ago) and I've kept most of it off. I go off the diet from time to time, indulge in sweets, pasta, whatever. I go off, my body punishes me for it and back on the diet I go.

The one thing I've managed, for the most part, to avoid, has been the smoking. About a week or so ago, I bought a pack. First one this year. It led to another and I've now been hating myself for smoking for about a week. To mask the stench and to try and keep me from wanting more, I picked up a pack of Dentyne. I hate gum chewers. It's an ugly habit but it beats the smoking so I chewed. And chewed and chewed. I dig the taste so I started upping the intake. I decided to check the ingredients, make sure I'm not ingesting carbs and I see that the gum has sorbitol and malitol as the first two ingredients. These are alcohol sugars that can, in large amounts, cause all kinds of intestinal hell. Diarrhea, gas, etc. I know this because I once downed two bags of sugar free butterscotch candies, only to find myself with what can only be described as a leaky ass. I spent a great deal of time hovering over the can as my body drained itself like a car getting an oil change.

So, I look at the pack of gum and see these two ingredients, then I look in the garbage can and see two empty packs lying there and a half chewed pack on the desk.

Fuck me.

The stomach had been rumbling, I thought it was hunger.

Nope. My stomach twisted and a strange noise came from my gut. mmmmmooooooorrrrroooooonnnnn it squealed.

Sensing I was about to piss out of my ass, I bolted for the bathroom. Fumbling with the lock, not sure if the butt clench will contain the package that is screaming, literally, to get out, I start to sweat. It's 100 degrees today and shit sweats aren't pleasant in an unairconditioned room. The sweat box that is the bathroom will be 150 degrees and I'd be sweating without the stomach cramping and the intestinal attempts to invert itself.

I managed to open the door and get my pants down as I settled onto the seat. The noise that escaped my anus was something akin to a dying moose. Some ghostly wailing followed. I gripped the sides of the bowl. It's coming.....that horrific expulsion of all things it comes...a ghastly moaning from my ass, coupled with some kind of mechanical churning sound inside my stomach and the sweat is coming and I'm ready for it, I want it, I'm embracing it, bring it I want it I want to feel the burning fluid I want to smell that acrid disgusting roadkill smell and then it happens.

That's right, it vanishes. Nothing.

I sit there in my drenched clothes, waiting for the payday, and it never comes. I figure my body is waiting until I get dressed before turning me into a soft serve machine but still, it never happens.

I do the unthinkable, I give a push. Normally, pushing with diarrhea can blow your o-ring and cause horrific damage to your ass, the bowl, your thighs and your already fragile ego but this time, nothing happened. I simply no longer had to shit.

There's nothing in me so my body can't expel it but it can, apparently, put me through the motions, punish me beyond belief for chewing all that gum. It's like a blow job minus the orgasm and without the blue balls to remind you that, at the very least, you did have your dick in someone's mouth.

I got nothing.

I want that happy ending, I need that pain and suffering to make the whole experience complete.

Fuck it, I'm going to chew all the gum that's left while I go pick up some mexican food and some licorice for dessert.

Show my body to fuck with me. I'll shit for two days. Then we'll see who's in charge, won't we?

1 comment:

foxy roxy said...

Gotta love it.

Here's one back at you. Young teen, diagnosed with diabetes. Yay.
For Easter that year, my mom bought me sugar free candy. The good stuff - turtles, truffles, the works.

I tasted the stuff - tasted like someone's body already digested and expelled the shit. Gross.

Gave it to my best friend, who was staying the night. Well, she has severe sweet-tooths, and she enjoyed them immensely.

Then, an hour later, it began.

Her ass went to war with her. Not little explosions, no, no. She dropped Hiroshima bombs left and right. It was like Pearl Harbor all over my bedroom. Pow. Boom. Bang. It sounded - literally - as if she was ripping vinyl in front of a microphone inside of the world's largest ampitheater.

I laughed till I was sick, and laughed some more. For all the attacks which so deserved an air-raid siren, no WMD were released, but all night, her ass' disagreements with the candy let themselves be known.

Fucking hysterical. Oh, the good ole days.