Sorry if you Ever Respected Me

For any one who is faint of heart and currently respects me as a human, I recommend not only refraining from reading this blog but destroying whatever platform you almost read it on.  Let’s dive right in.  A few years back I was getting ready for college after winter break.  But I had this stomach ache that started off mild and rapidly progressed.  I’m not one to over-exaggerate but it felt like someone took a rusty bladed object, lit it on fire, doused it in the venom of a black widow, tripled my nerve-endings and then shoved it right into my stomach.  I think it was a 3 out of ten on the pain scale but I’ve almost fainted from stubbing my toe so that scale is a bit convoluted when I use it. 

So I was laying in bed wondering how I would survive another moment when my mother Beth came in.  She said “Dear Lord save my child from this foul creature that inhabits her soul.”  I talk about exorcisms too much in my blogs so I won’t mention that I was writhing in bed, moaning, with my hands tethered to the bed posts as my family spritzed me with holy water, because that joke is over-used.  But it did occur and I am not proud of it.  After the holy water didn’t work and I screamed sacrilegious profanities I went to the doctor. 

Stomach pain is not something to mess with so when they took one look at my sweatiness they decided to x-ray me.  A doctor took me in and asked;

“Are you pregenant?”

“Nope!”

“…are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay I don’t mean to be forceful but…”

“No one has touched me in years but thank you sir.”

After this interaction spawned a tragic self-realization I was forced to undress my body that no one had the nerve to touch in centuries as I put on my x-ray gown.  When the results came in I was informed that I was unnervingly constipated.  I had previously thought x-rays examined bones but I guess I underestimated its abilities.  So the doctor prescribed me heavy doses of poopoo medications and then said he would be right back with something.

I anxiously awaited and when he returned he was carrying a small wooden box that had looked warn by years and years of things that wear down wood.  He got on one knee before me, stroked my hair, and opened the box slowly.  A warm glow emitted from the box and within was something I’d never seen.  The doctor called them “suppositories.”  “What is that?”  I asked in wonder.  He told me gently that it was something you insert in your rectum to help you poop but it is a last resort.  I started dry-heaving at the thought but took the box anyways, knowing I would never, ever, ever use it.

A few days went by and I was not pooping and I looked like I was pregnant with an elephant fetus.  But I could not.  I would not.  A few more days went by and I am now carrying a whale fetus.  I walk towards the box and stare the suppository in the eye.  I shed a tear and whisper “It’s time.”  I won’t go into detail but I did what I had to do.  As I’m laying there with things in areas we only see in our nightmares, I read the warnings.  It said that if this doesn’t work you need to go to the emergency room.  I wondered why because if this doesn’t work I think it’s time to just follow the light.  Not everything is worth it.  It’s about a day later and nothing has happened.  I knew I was dying so I decided to live it up and just get some Starbucks.  As I was sipping my last caffeinated drink before I died I felt something.  I knew exactly what it was.  I ran to the bathroom.  And the rest is history.

One Thought on “Sorry if you Ever Respected Me

  1. You did it again, dear priestess of bowels! I await the day you give birth, oh, niece of little stamina! That will be one for the record books!!! In fact, why don’t you go get yourself pregnant so you have something else funny to write about? I can only imagine….

Leave a Reply

Post Navigation