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DeFluffinMyStuffin 04-27-2012 03:41 PM

The definitive TMI share and a heapin' helpin' of humility.
 
I warned you. You opened it anyway. This is your LAST chance to save yourself a TMI visual of epic proportions. I’m sharing because, well, I dunno really other than I tend to find everyday chaos and real life things hilarious. This was not hilarious as it was happening but as I look back and think of it in my head. The story MAKES, no, begs me to share. I normally keep all my stupid stories to myself or very close friends :hug:but while I’m trying to lose weight, I’m trying to gain the me that got suffocated by all M’fluff. Although, once a few years ago I wrote a VERY personal story about something and posted it anonymously really late at night through some really big crocodile sized tears :stress: and I still feel guilty and wonder about it be- boppin’ around in the cyber universe forever and ever. I had to make the hubby read it to rid myself of the guilt and he didn’t think it was funny:nono:…but, it so was. On with the show…

This morning I had a weigh in scheduled at NastiFast. :goodscale I was concerned it wouldn’t be a super great one for a few reasons. One, I started adding some moderate weight training to my workout this week :lifter:and that always tends to slow my loss for a bit and TWO(as in the freakin’ #2!) my downtown plumbing has been on the fritz. I’m going to be as delicate and cryptic as possible to not cross over from regular ol’ TMI territory to creeptastic overshare. Oh, h:devil:ll…it’s the latter and there’s just nothing to be done about it.
I suspect the sluggish plumbing is related to the MASSIVE decrease in food intake and then there’ s the whole eating powders, puffs and potions :stir: until I have to watch myself so I don’t start snacking on packing popcorn. :corn:With a little Tony Chacheres it’d probably taste better than the NastiFast puffs, bites? I don’t know why I call ‘em puffs. Probably because they are kinda poofy when you bite ‘em.
Any. Hoo~
Last night I was thinking’ of my downtown discomfort and about the weigh in and thought I should try to correct the plumbing problem or I might um, see the scale not moving south and it would be all on account of dumbbells and a backed up back porch.
When you have a problem you want to correct it, no? So, of course I took a “correctol”. One. Uno. One itty bitty pretty little pink pill.:queen: Imagine my surprise when this morning I woke up and all was quiet in the nether regions. Nadda. Crotch crickets(not the kind you get from tequila shots and a sketchy guy marinatin’ in polo cologne) The kind when nuttin’s happening. Oh well. I dropped my little one off at school :write: and decided a big cup of black coffee :coffee2:may jump start the little pink plumber. I stopped and grabbed my go go juice, guzzled :coffee:, then headed for the dreaded weigh in. I hate getting on the scale! I am a person. Not produce, although I do resemble the world‘s largest apple pear. Yet, when dieting, I do weigh daily because I’m a glutton for punishment, and a regular ol’ run of the mill glutton, I suppose. It’s why I’m here.
See how easily I get off track?
Weigh in goes fine. 2.2 pounds lost and I was ok with that… all things considered.
Speaking of “all things“, t’was still quiet down in the wooded area so I decide to head home before heading to :exercise:exercise. I spotted a garage sale sign near my neighborhood and I got a wild hair up my rear (join the party!) and decided to take a look see.
I’m perusing around the junk I don’t need to lug home but seriously TRYING to find anything that I can pretend I need because let’s face it, I can’t eat Ben & Jerry’s. I can’t afford to shop retail because NastiFast is so crazy expensive so I’m putting in real effort to spend a few nickels. I find something’ to add to my clutter and am diggin’ in my wallet when who decides to get off her keister and get to work? You guessed it. The little pink plumber. :rollpin: That heiffer! I practically threw the money at the garage sale lady and walked to my car much like a penguin with a hemorroid problem might move about. I get to my car and silently thanked my lucky stars that I was so near my own neighborhood but worriedly did a math calculation :book2: that involved the distance from my house to the amount of hours the little box said it would take to “gently” stimulate a laxative effect. I become more and more panicked as the little pink plumber became more and more aggressive in her plumbing approach. My God! Gently, you said gently!. My hands are white knuckled, clenched on the steering wheel :bike:as I try desperately to revoke the contract by clenching elsewhere if ya catch my yucky drift :p. I slammed the radio button to do anything to distract myself from what I was rapidly realizing was a very real situation that might have a very real ugly outcome before I could make it 3 more blocks. Milli Vanilli is pretending to sing “Girl, you know it’s true!! Eeewww Eeeewww Ew Ew! (It’s probably “OOhh Ooh oh oh” but I felt a little creative license in the spelling was more than appropriate here). While wondering why I don’t have milli vanilli on my ipod, I round the corner of my very own street where my very own house sits and inside that house is my very own toilet. Whew. This makes me happy. Given a choice for a million bucks or a toilet, I’d of chose the toilet.
I calm a bit for a moment or two before the little pink plumber :rollpin:does some crazy industrial strength business down there and full on horror sets in that I. am.so.close. Yet, I don’t think I’m going to make it. I drove the length of my driveway like it was the Indy 500:scooter:, flung open the car door, purse spilling out, left it open and made for the back door with the tiniest of shuffles because a full on sprint just didn’t seem feasible. My keys, thank god my keys are in my shaky fisted hand. The lock is right in front of me. I am shaking like a leaf and screaming omg! :yikes:Omg! Omg! Please no!!!(at who? at myself? I dunno) My hands are trembling so badly, I am cursing the little pink plumber:rollpin: in my head with words so vile I will not repeat them here. :censored:(The irony of my sudden self editing in a re-telling of an experience such as this does not escape me)
I’m in the house. The dog is so very happy to see me. The dog, as he does every time one of us returns, jumps a few feet in the air excitedly slamming himself into my legs. I try to reason with the dog and explain calmly but in a VERY loud voice, “OMG, “dog’s name here!“, please don’t jostle my lower region!“ I cannot see straight at this point.:no: Decision making has moved into the fight or flight scenario and is happening at lightning speed. :headache:I decide to just stop and play statue for a moment for absolute certain that one inch will make the difference in me keeping or killing my favorite fat pants. In a flash of brazen courage, I decide to make a hemorrhoidal penguin type run for the hallway.
It was not a good decision.
My pants. My favorite black, comfiest of fat pants in all their Capri-ness glory endured the unthinkable. Pants surely choose to lend themselves to adults rather than babies, I would assume to avoid a fate such as this.
The next good while involved lots of bleach, vigorous cleaning, bathing, humility and spewing forth profanities to the :rollpin:little pink plumber. At first I vowed revenge :club: but my sacrifice, the loss, was such that I just wanted to put it behind me, so to speak.
I share because I care. Let not one more pair of fat pants be lost to the evil pinkness. Pep your pipes carefully least you be pants -less.
When I added my tagline under my username. I chose that “I want big pants!” due to this wildly unintentionally hilarious commercial for some weight loss biz where the guy is holding out the waist of some way too big britches and smiles entirely too big :D as he asks way too enthusiastically “Do YOU want big pants?!”. I confirmed aloud to him that yes, I did indeed want big pants. Looking back it was prophetic to say the least. I suppose I should have said I want big, CLEAN pants. Live and learn.

I do realize that instead of all of the above yammering on and TMI type details I could have spared you all with one simple sentence…

“I totally sh*t my pants, y’all!”

berryblondeboys 04-27-2012 04:06 PM

But at least you made it home. Imagine if it was in your car - or at the weigh-in, or at the garage sale place... or wherever.

I think we all have a story to share of similar ending.

586 04-27-2012 04:30 PM

:hug: I have so been there, but this is the best write up of bodily expulsions I have read in such a long time. :D

Yeah, I always hated that "gently" disclaimer.... gently my rear. Dulcolax? HA. More like Cramping-for-8-hours-then-OMG-Armageddon-In-Mah-Bathroom.

I've always giggled whenever relatives have to do that Go-Lytely fluid for colonoscopies... because there is NOTHING "light" about that product. You might as well just park your keister over the tub to contain that toxic spill.

4star 04-27-2012 04:33 PM

Oh my goodness. That was quite a story and so well told, you could be a writer! :lol:

tonimaroni2 04-27-2012 04:40 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Klein Helmer (Post 4310851)
Pictures or it didn't happen.

Hahahaha I love this!

ICUwishing 04-27-2012 04:42 PM

I am so very, very glad that the majority of my coworkers have left for the day, and cannot hear me snorting and see my tear-filled eyes. It's been a long time ... but I can empathize. Very sorry you had to experience it! Yes, could have been much worse ... I doubt the story could have been told better!

chubbybunny29 04-27-2012 04:59 PM

LOL This is the best thing I've ever read! As an irresponsible lactose-intolerant person, I have had those moments, but thankfully, my hemmroidal penguin run has always made it to the bathroom.

May you find some replacement comfy pants that never have to endure anything like the last pair. God speed comfy pants, God Speed.

missphalange 04-27-2012 05:08 PM

I am so, so sorry for the loss of your favorite fat pants. My thoughts are with you at this tragic time.

:thanks2:

HappyHoliday 04-27-2012 05:30 PM

You are so lucky your accident was just in your house. I'm glad you don't crash the car

fitness4life 04-27-2012 06:09 PM

Holy cr*p. That was hilarious.

We've all been there for one reason or another. It's a rarity that one doesn't make it to the can.

I actually have a few ice breaker party questions to get the peeps at the party to lighten up. One of the questions is, "You're in the middle of a big city. You have an EBM (emergency bowel movement) coming on. Do you A) cr*p your pants and have to take public transportation home? or B) Drop trowsers and embarrass yourself temporarily but travel home with nobody there knowing?

I always vote to cr*p the street and not the pants.

I'm always in the minority.

Porthardygurl 04-27-2012 06:38 PM

Seriously..if your not a writer, you should become one now..that was freaking hilarious..you have a way with telling stories..it definitely made my crappy A$$ day a better one.

smisen 04-27-2012 07:27 PM

You. are. awesome. :) Sorry for the "issues", but not the dramatically hilarious retelling they led to!

losermom 04-27-2012 08:01 PM

Too funny! I almost cr@pped my pants reading it. Your story reminds my of the time that one of my kids had a version of the stomach flu that included the big D. The child kept referring to the repeated (48 hrs+) big D events as "peeing out of my butt". I thought the kid was waiting too long to get to the B room, being kind of lazy if you know what I mean. Well, 2 days later I got the memo. It was true! When you had even an inkling that you needed to get to the B room--it was too late. You had already "peed out of your butt". Sorry for the TMI. All names and locations have been changed to protect the innocent...:sssh:

threenorns 04-27-2012 09:18 PM

my stomach hurts

CrystalZ10 04-28-2012 02:04 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by DeFluffinMyStuffin (Post 4310809)
“I totally sh*t my pants, y’all!”

:rofl::rofl::rofl:


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