UC me rollin’… [at my brother in law’s church]
Christmas and New Year’s season is almost winding down here and I’m still utterly bursting at the seams with excitement. Well, if you’ve kept up with my blogs you know what that means… excitement= poop explosions. So now I have to pretend like I’m a hipster and go against the grain and reject the mainstream banalities of Christmas and New Year’s and express my inner self by buying everyone’s Christmas present at the local thrift shop. All of this, of course, to trick my colon into believing I am absolutely not [but really I am] excited about the holiday season. Spoiler alert, I’m failing at this. Actually my colon can never tell the difference between my excitement and anxiety. It’s all the same to him, that jerk.
This week’s story is called…
UC me rollin… [at my brother in law’s church]
On Sunday my daughter and I had plans to go to a Disney holiday princess spectacular. I paid $80 for the tickets. We were so pumped. Well, I was excited Luna didn’t know; It was supposed to be a surprise. I was not going to cancel, although I had severe bronchitis and had a bad bathroom day the day before. We made a pit stop at my brother in laws church for a special service before the princess spectacular. I was giddy inside and kept high pitched screaming in my head every 20 minutes or so. It was nice to see family there! It was so exciting to see everyone from my husband’s side there. We don’t get to see them so often. After the service I was greeting everyone. From afar… I had to do the awkward, wave. I hope they didn’t think I was being cold and rude. If my wave had a translation it would say. “I have a cold but here’s a wave hello because I don’t want to infect you and your family with consumption and ruin your holiday.” Anyways, All I remember was greeting one of the aunts and my colon started to rage against my holiday spirit. (Starting to think my colon is the hipster here) Anyways, I sat down on a bench to breathe. I forgot where the bathroom was. I started to panic. “Oh no oh no oh no oh no,” I repeated in my head. I managed to breathe through this attack. Seconds ago I had been posing ever so gayly for family Christmas pictures. Everything was going great why now?!? All I had for breakfast were two pieces of shredded wheat and a sip of watered down OJ. How could this possibly be happening to me. Is my hipster colon literally going against the “grain?” No but really, was shredded wheat too much for my colon to handle?
After the cramp went away I realized I had been left alone in the sanctuary with my daughter, kid’s book bag, coats, box of tissues, and bottle. Alright, time to find the bathroom. I was schlepping down the corridor and my hipster colon decided to rage on me once again. Like as if I served him a bud light instead of his usual crafty hoity toity IPA. As if I told him he owed $130,000 in student loan debt. Was my hipster colon mad at me because I drove to church instead riding in on a bike? Did I upset him because I talked about gentrification and inadvertently offended him? I don’t know what I did to him today, but oh the pain!. I ran down the hall of the church daycare and spotted a door which was ajar. The walls were tiled with blue and there were signs and bins everywhere and fun pictures of animals giving me detailed instructions on how to wash my hands. These poor animals were going to witness a truly terrible scene straight out of a Tarantino film. Like that scene in Kill Bill Vol. 1 when Uma Thurman delivers wrath with her Hattori Hanzo steel on the crazy 88 at O-ren Ishii’s headquarters. Except instead of all the blood and limbs, there is ALL THE POOPS. (Scratch that… all the blood too. festive, I know.) And my hipster colon didn’t come riding in wearing a yellow leather jumpsuit and on a Ducati, but a plaid flannel button up and brown corduroys… riding on an electric moped. Anyways, this bathroom was surely a toddler bathroom- the tiny toilet gave it away. I dragged my daughter in, slammed all my belongings onto the floor, and locked the door. I unbuttoned my pants and literally was two feet away from the toilet. Whoosh…. it all came out in my pants. “Nooooooooooooo!” I screamed. My daughter looks up and without a beat says, “mami did you poop you pants again?” I said yes and out of anger and frustration I cursed my colon in church and sobbed. Someone in the hall must of heard my chaos and knocked. Behold my mother in law. Rescue me please! She ran and got my husband who brought me a tub of wipes and ran to the store to get me some new underwear. I cleaned up and was able to salvage my jeans by doing the laser focus removal of the clothing. That kind of laser focus needed when you play that carnival game where you have to slide a metal ring down a curved metal rod without touching the two metals. THAT kind of focus.
There I was sitting alone in this cold blue toddler bathroom. Naked from the waste down waiting for my underwear. After about a chilly 45 minutes of waiting, my husband returns with a pack of adult diapers and socks. Good thinking Obed, good thinking. I quickly changed and returned to the festivities. I didn’t realize my Mascara was everywhere. I looked like I just watched the scene from Moana where her grandma turns into a giant biophosporant manta ray. I was a blubbery mess. Not to mention my crying fit aggravated my bronchitis. So now I couldn’t breathe and every coughing fit gave me anxiety because my sphincter was off celebrating the sabbath. I was in real fear that I was going to soil myself once again. Hey at least I had a diaper on now! #silverlining
I had to cancel my princess plans. I called the box office and donated my tickets to whoever wanted them. I drove home to go to urgent care for my bronchitis. I waited there for two hours sweating like a tourist in Disney world in the middle of July. Why was I sweating? Well the waiting room bathroom had a sign that said “OUT OF ORDER.” But I guess my hipster colon was cool because they were showing Fixer Upper in the lobby. My hipster colon was content with seeing repeat episodes of farm kitchens and repurposed furniture.
I came home, showered, and passed out. I never made it to work for the next two days. Between running back and forth to the bathroom and coughing between every word, I managed to gain a set of gorgeous calf muscles and I can almost see a six pack forming under my mom pouch. Oh yea this illness is going to make me look hott.
I still haven’t told my brother in law I pooped myself in his church daycare. I’m sure he’s reading this. Doug, I’m just as surprised as you. I really can’t believe I pooped my pants in the holy dwelling place that is your church. I apologize for my jerk colon and my sphincter who remembered the sabbath day and kept it holy. I must relate to my sphincter that he needs to work everyday. I also need my colon to work every day, but he’s a hipster so maybe “working” is too “mainstream.” I think my colon would much rather get a degree in art history and start a nonprofit to make humans aware of craft beers and fancy cheese burger buns. He’s a hipster and a jerk.
Update: I went to the gastroenterologist. I had to poop in several containers, seal them, and freeze them in my freezer. I am still waiting for new treatment plan. I’m still in adult diapers. Since writing this I’ve pooped my pants several times. Big surprise. Even though this situation is , for lack of a better word- “crappy,” I still find moments to laugh at myself. I still smile and have a positive outlook. Sure, this isn’t easy, but I’m alive! I am hoping I can ring in the new year with out an incident and if I do you’ll likely here about it. I am off to pretend I don’t care about the New Year’s countdown. Well I end with my “feces” statement:
“Everyone at some point poops their pants in their life, I probably do it more than the normal adult human. And I should be allowed to talk about it freely.”
FELIZ ANO NUEVO (intentional)
“Happy new anus”