*sigh* ...Okay, I don't normally tell fart stories about myself (at least, not online), but today was a doozie. I don't know what I ate that was different, but when I got dressed I thought I had put on weight. I had a heck of a time zipping up my jeans, and my belly (which, I'll admit, could stand to lose some of the padding there) was as hard as a rock. No give to it at all. Assuming that I would have to cut back on snacks for a while, I went about my day. Or, at least, I started to.
Now, I'm a self-admitted coffee addict. I can drink at least a pot a day, usually with half-and-half, and I would say that my system is used to it by now. It makes me a little gassy sometimes, but I can usually control it. Not today! I can only assume it was the popcorn I had this week, but I was letting go at fairly regular intervals, and they were bad enough to make the dog leave. Mind you, this is a Boxer, and Boxers are renowned for their flatulence. Daisy is no exception, and she was glaring at me as if I were the most uncouth creature on the planet. Or maybe she didn't like the competition.
Eventually, I ended up having to basically set up camp in the bathroom for a few hours. They were
loud, they were
long, they
hurt, and even though I was generous with the Fabreeze Air Effects spray when I was done (every time I was done), my brother cried out from the other end of the house, "Aw, P.
U.! You got a
demon in there?!" Being the understanding and considerate (ha-ha) big sister that I am, I, of course, found this hilarious. So, I did my best to confine my gas to the bathroom.
I took a two-hour nap because I was exhausted and a little dehydrated. The first thing I did when I woke up?
Prrrrrrrrrbbbt!Excuse me while I go and search for my dignity.
