I can’t fit into my pants, so I’m dieting again. It’s either that or buying fat clothes, and I can’t afford a new wardrobe.
Now that I have committed to cutting sugar and carbs from my plate and replaced it with a high fiber/water/protein/artificial sweeter diet, you know what that means, right? It’s not safe to fart.
A helpful piece of information that weight-loss magazines and websites fail to disclose to their readers is that when you suddenly change your diet, you are half a flatulence away from surprise diarrhea. One moment, you feel a slight pressure in your rear while standing alone in the paper towel aisle of the grocery store, and the next, your Jackson-Pollocking your pants before quickly waddling to your car (leading with your hips), praying that you don’t run into anyone you know. But I suppose marketing volcanic ass splatter as a step on your journey to a hot body doesn’t really sell Weight Watchers snack cakes, Self magazines, or Tae Bo videos.
There’s a price to pay for suddenly shitting…I mean, “shifting” from a meal plan that incorporates ten chocolate-covered donuts a day to one that is isn’t served in cellophane. The moment an unfried vegetable passes through my stomach after months of fast food, the demons of junk food that made their home in my intestines punish me by violently flushing it out the end of my digestive tract.
Because of my weakness to cravings and laziness from exercise, I deserve to sound like I’m ripping open a plastic, gallon tub of ice cream after squatting on a public toilet. I deserve to hide at home on weekends and within twenty feet of my bathroom instead of partying with my cats. It’s what I get for treating my body like a garbage disposal.
So this is me starting over. Yet again. I can do this. I will fit comfortably into my pants. After all, the irritable bowels are just a temporary hazing period, a way to pay my dues before earning back a body that is shaped more like a carrot and less like an eggplant. To get through it, I’ll just tell myself that I’m exorcising my demons during every trip to the toilet…if I make it on time.