The only good thing about having a mysterious digestive ailment is that when I am really sick, I also lose a fair amount of weight. Yes, I know that it is demented that I count this as a positive side effect. I don’t recommend it as a method of weight loss in general. Crapping out turds that appear to be the same length and width as my forearm is uncomfortable, to say the least. I have gas that could kill an infant. In the past, I have asked people not to hug me so tightly, as I feared shit might get squeezed out of my ass.
The only other benefit is that if someone accuses me of being full of shit, I can proudly say, “Yes. Yes, I am!” Hey, I’ll take whatever good I can find in this otherwise shitty (hardee har har) situation.
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My husband would be mortified if he knew I mentioned this, but he has similar mysterious digestive ailments. He too feels like the weight loss is a bonus. He had to have a colonoscopy (which included watching as the camera approached his ass), but I don't think he'd ever go for the shit bucket tests -- he's kind of poop-phobic, and doesn't like to think or talk about it. Which is kind of sad, since Gynagirl is one of my best friends, and we have microphones... Last band practice was nothing but songs about poop.
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