Priceless.

I've reverted back to cutting my split ends and I'm giving myself a headache.
I decided that I will stop the madness and tell a personal tale.

I'm not a big potty talk person. Sure, I can joke around about how I pee my pants and pee the bed as an adult because it's a fact of my life and rather than be embarrassed about it, I have decided to embrace it. However, when it comes to "taking the Browns to the Superbowl" I'd like to pretend it just doesn't happen. I mean really? Why do our bodies do this? I figure Heavenly Father has a sense of humor that I just don't understand.

For my senior trip I went to Lake Powell for 5 or 6 days with a BFF and her aunt and uncle. If we had to pee we could go in the lake, but if we had to make a nasty we had to ask the aunt and uncle to turn the water on in the boat and then they would all be sitting on the beach while you're in the crapper and they knew EXACTLY what you were doing. My solution? I didn't poop the ENTIRE trip. That takes talent people. My friend was even like, "Uh, you didn't even go to the bathroom the whole time we were there." I was like, "Yeah, I guess I just never had to go." When in reality I lost 5 pounds when I finally made the release. Haha, I can't believe I'm typing all of this! Do you see what my job is doing to me?!

For all Derrick knows I NEVER fart or make number 2. It's been a little tricky to conceal for the last 5ish years, but I'd like to think I've done a stand up job! The real challenge started when the endometriosis came because it makes your body act like it has IBS. What is IBS? It's Irritable Bowel Syndrome. So basically, when it hits you gotta find a toilet like PRONTO or you're scewed. And don't even think about farting to release the pressure or you could shart! What is sharting? It's when you think you're gonna fart and instead you shiz your pants.

Once upon a time we lived in an apartment with only one bathroom. I was making dinner like a good slave... I mean wife (oopsy!) and Derelict was in the shower. Suddenly, a meteor expolded in my stomach and my intestines opened a can of serious whoop-A. I doubled over and weighed my options as fast as I could. A - Go into the bathroom and scar my husband for life with no chance for recovery. B - Try to hold it, drive 5 minutes to the nearest gas station and hope to make it back before Derrick notices I left. The gas station wins! Although, I was not fast enough. The truth came out and I've yet to live it down.

Last week I was having serious stomach issues. I was laying on the lovesack watching a show and decided to let a silent but deadly fart escape from my body. This episode of flatulence probably could have killed a small village. Derrick came downstairs and lifted up the blanket to sit by me and watch the movie. The stench hit his nostrils and he pulled back in disgust. His poor face was priceless! I still crack up every time I think about it. I'm cracking up right now. Good thing the rest of my office is at lunch. It leaves me wondering, why did I wait so long to unleash the beast?

I hope you enjoyed my very long story about pooping and farting.
Until next time.

-The Princess of Phenomenal Flatulence
(my sister is the Queen)