This Is Me on a Diet

Sometimes, I weigh a lot. Now is one of those times. Normally, I'm OK with this because I support and identify with women of all shapes and sizes. But lately, I'm less OK with this because I'm not active anymore, and I'm putting really bad shit into my body on a regular basis.

People, I am eating my feelings like NOBODY'S BUSINESS, and they haven't been very good feelings lately, so it has been very, very bad (but oh so delicious) food.

Balance is good. Binging is bad. Starving is worse. So where do I draw that healthy line when it comes to what I eat?

This is my inner turmoil:

Me: I really should start eating healthier food.

My Legs: Yeah, I agree. It's a getting a little Jell-O-like down here.

My Mind: MmmmMMmmm, Jell-O.

Me: You guys, I just don't know if I can commit to a diet.

My Mind: Don't call it a "diet" - call it a "lifestyle change." That is the new phrase for diet.

My Legs: It's supposed to be about, like, changing how you live for the better through what you eat.

Me: That still sounds like a diet.

My Legs: OK then, Negative Nancy, way to poop on this party. You're not the one suffering, you know! How would you like to be squeezed into the strait jackets you call PANTS every day?

My Mind: That's harsh.

Me: I GET IT. I eat a lot of cookies and don't do a lot of running, and I see what this is doing to all of us.

My Mind: Speaking of running, you're not very good at that either.

Me: I'm serious. I want to be healthier!

My Legs: Then things are going to have to change. Like, big time. You and I will need to get close and work together.

Me: Um, how close?

My Legs: Super close. I need to be your best friend every day. You need to take me out on hikes and stuff.

My Mind: HELLO? What about ME? I'm the cognitive center of MIND POWER over here. You can't leave me out!

My Legs: You'll come with us too. You need to convince her to go outside.

Me: Ick! I hate being outdoors.

My Legs: See what I mean?

My Mind: Being outside is not that horrible, except for the daily rain, sleet, snow, and/or hail. Oh, and that wind! It's awful.

My Legs: ......you're really not helping.

Me: Forget the outdoors for now. We'll worry about that when the weather finally perks up.

My Mind: Hahahahaha, that won't happen any time soon. We're in Washington.

Me: Whatever. Let's focus on what I should be eating.

My Legs: How about what you SHOULDN'T be eating? Those cookies and pints of Ben and Jerry's ice cream ring a bell.

My Mind: Don't hate on my BRAIN FOOD!

My Legs: You are NOT any smarter with all of those sugary calories!

My Mind: How would you know?! Your piece of the nervous system is NOTHING compared to my labyrinth.

Me: I guess I should stop eating those things, and maybe lay off the pasta, bread, and potatos for awhile too.

My Mind: NoooOOOoOoOOOoOOoOOooooo!

My Legs: Yeah, that's the spirit! Now let's get some fruit, vegetables, and lean meat up in the kitchen!

My Mind: NoOooOoOOOOooOOoOOoOOoo!

Me: Yeah, OK! Let's do this! I can make those changes. It shouldn't be too hard to start eating those things.

My Mind: You won't make it! You don't understand! WE LOVE COOKIES!

Me: We need to LOVE OTHER FOOD!

My Mind: ....stop yelling at me....this is really hard to handle....I can't process all of these changes...

My Legs: You're super pathetic right now. Don't you want to live longer?

My Mind:  Sure, but but but but but but but but can't we have one last cookie? Or bowl of spaghetti? Like as a goodbye?

Me: That's not a bad idea.

My Legs: NO! We need to start eating well NOW or else it will never happen!

Me: But if it's our last meal eating like that....we should make the most of it...

My Mind: And we can start eating better any time....like tomorrow.

My Legs: NO!!!! You guys are so - wait, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Put the Oreo down NOW!

My Mind: She already touched it, she might as well eat it!

Me: Mmmmm, creme filling....chocolate biscuit goodness....om nom nom nom.

My Legs:...........................

My Mind: Mmmmm, sugar high....spike in energy.....om nom nom nom.

My Legs:..........................

Me: This is the best cookie I've ever had.

My Legs:.........................can you at least start wearing bigger pants for me?

I am the Cookie Monster

If you haven't already heard, Western Washington (i.e. The Better Half) endured the Snow-Pocalypse of 2012 last week. Twelve inches of snow might not seem like a lot to you if you're from, say, the Midwest or wherever, but I'm not from one of the lesser states in the union, so twelve inches of snow is a lot to me.

I was snowed in for three straight days, and it was AMAZING. I took advantage of my bonus vacation by reading paranormal romance stories (What? Twilight, hello?), writing and deleting an innumerable amount of blog entries, and watching everything that I recorded on my DVR last year.

If you want to talk Housewives, I am all caught up so let's chat.

What I didn't do while I was snowed in was cook or bake very much because I ran out of appetizing food after about 12 hours.  I only had a container of sour cream, random pastas, an egg, wine, and peanut butter in my kitchen.

Oh, and some onions.

It was at that moment when I realized two different things:

1) Domino's delivers, rain or shine.

2) I should never, ever run out of cookies.

I thought I had a well-stocked pantry, but my cookie-less 5-day weekend proved me wrong. Pizza can only sustain me for so long, you know? I was devastated to realize that I couldn't even bake anything chocolate chip or cinnamon sugar related, and I was at the edge of sanity when I discovered that I ran out of Oreos too.

Now that it's Girl Scout Cookie pre-sale season, my hunger for daily cookies might have clouded my purchase because I ordered forty dollars worth of cookies this year.

I know you're probably judging me and the size of my pants, BUT I REALLY DON'T CARE because of the following reasons:

1) I am supporting future leaders of America.

2) I am doing my best to make sure that one little girl scout gets the Top Cookie Sales badge this year.

3) Have you ever had a Samoa? Or a Thin Mint from the freezer? Stuff of DREAMS, people.

4) This will prevent me from running out of cookies during the next snow storm.

5) I stopped weighing myself many months ago anyway, so this will not have an impact on my self-esteem.

6) My husband will only eat the broken ones forcing my cookie consumption tp be subsequently smaller, if by a fraction.

7) You can only get these boxes once a year! ONCE A YEAR!

There are probably more reasons that I could add to this list, but I have been typing this entire post with my new pair of smart gloves and while they're awesome for track pad usage, they aren't ideal for typing. I wasn't really expecting that issue because they're "smart" gloves, but I'm assuming the patent is still pending on the keyboard-friendly pair.

I'll be the first in line for those babies and every blog post thereafter will be composed with them.

Thinking About Getting a Cat? Think Again.

Growing up, we always had a cat. Usually, it was a big, fat, fluffy sort of cat that did a lot of sleeping and ignoring me. Maybe I forgot what they were like as kittens because my current cats? They are NOTHING like the cats of my youth. They are driving me to alcoholism with their kitty shenanigans.

That Hermione and Luna duo? TOTALLY BAT SHIT PSYCHO.

Let us count the ways:

1) Cats will steal your money.
True. I have an entry way table where I put down my daily essentials: keys, wallet, phone. I always set these things down on this table. I have never deviated from this pattern because I would lose these things if I did anything different.

My cats have witnessed me leaving my belongings there every day and have shown zero percent interest in that table until just recently. I leave my debit card in the front pocket of my many-pocketed wallet, and they managed to take it out of that pocket the other day.

You know, the pocket that snaps shut.

And then they lost interest in it and left it in their litter box for me as a nice surprise.

2) Cats can break down doors, or at least try very, very hard to do so.
I have tried to let my cats sleep in my room with me, but when I'm asleep, I become a jungle gym as far as they are concerned. I've been woken up countless times to find my cats wrestling on my face.

Now when slumber is imminent, I trick them into leaving my room by turning on this laser pointer thingy (a.k.a. The Babysitter. I hope this thing works on human babies.) and running back into my room.

Once the laser pointer shuts off, they find other ways to entertain themselves including, but not limited to, eating toilet paper, knocking over lamps, and breaking down my bedroom door.

I've been trying to get some footage of their antics, but I've come to the conclusion that they are throwing their bodies against my door with a running start because that is the only way to explain the thunderous sounds that they generate hour after hour.

More than once, I've woken up in a panic because I thought someone was trying to burglarize my home, but really, it's just my cats being insane.

3) Cats will attack anything and everything because they are always on the hunt.
Shoelaces? Prey.

Fingers? Prey.

Hanging towels? Prey.

Toilet paper? Prey.

Chairs? Prey.

Debit cards? Prey.

Something must be hunted at all times. Everything has the potential to be hunted at some point or another. This means that all of your belongings, and I mean all of it, will meet cat claws sooner rather than later.

I used to have leather chairs. Now I have two wooden chairs covered in leather ribbons and white upholstery stuffing.

4) Cats want to get all up in your grill.
You know when you are all snuggled up on the couch watching your favorite movie and reminiscing about your imaginary life as a Disney Princess? (What?) Cats will hone in on your state of comfort and then sit on your face.

Or paw at your face. Or knock the remote out of your hand (see #3). Or sit right in front of the TV blocking your view of Belle singing about her provincial life. Or lick your hair.

They will do anything it takes to make sure you are annoyed, disgruntled, frustrated, or generally upset, and then they will expect you to serve them because they are assholes like that.

5) Cats are picky as shit and nothing can please them.
Their food will never be fresh enough, especially when they can try to have your dinner. The water in their water bowl will never parch their thirst because there is a toilet they could try to drink from or a sink they could sit in while you are brushing your teeth. Their litter will never clump properly, and they will want to dig and dig and dig and dig into their box until all of the litter has been kicked out of the box.

You can never pet them enough. Cats want to know why you are going to work and paying your bills when you could be petting them. They're all like, "Who do you think you are, Human? Come hither and pet me right away."

The cat toys and cat treats and other cat-oriented gifts you buy for them are never good enough, and they will never ever sleep in a cat bed when they can sleep on top of your diaphragm instead.

In spite of, you know, everything, I do love my cats because every once in awhile, they will sit next to me, purr, and not attack my hand for about 10 minutes straight. It's almost like they're my pets and I don't live to serve them and make them more comfortable.

2012 - What What!

Happy New Year, you crazy hooligans!

Did you party until the wee hours of the morning?

Or did you fall asleep to the sound of Ryan Seacrest's voice on TV?

Whatever you did, I hope you did it safely. I, for one, stayed up well past midnight, but that's only because I took an 18-hour nap earlier that day.

I'm serious. I really did sleep that long. Impressed? I thought so.

I'm not one for resolutions, mostly because I forget them. I also think that they can be rather limiting because of the boundaries they can create in your daily life.

If you want to "eat healthier" this year, your intake of cookies and ice cream dramatically decreases. If you want to "lose weight" for 2012, you spend less hours watching Real Housewives and more hours at a gym. If you want to "save more money," you're shopping less.

People, I cannot live life like that. A life with less dairy, NeNe Leakes, and Sephora is not the life for me. However, I see the value of having a resolution (or a few) because it's like having a personal tracker of stuff you want to do in the next year that can make you feel happier.

I just don't like the word "resolution" very much because it's, um, rather resolute. Like, if you don't do it, then you're a big failure at life. What if you start out the year, you know, lifting more weights, like you resolutely promised yourself, and you realize that going to the gym is not your cup of tea? Why stick with something that makes you unhappy?

Resolutions should bring you joy and open some doors to new possibilities! You want to limit yourself? Well, that's what Lent is for.

Anyway, here are my resolutions-slash-things-I-want-to-do-to-be-a-little-happier for 2012:

1) Try out homemade laundry detergent
I know this might seem like a weird one, but have you seen what's in a bottle of Tide or Gain detergent? Laundry chemists or whoever put some crazy shit in those bottles, and then I wash my sheets in that, and then I rub my face on those sheets at night getting that crazy shit all over my skin and sometimes my mouth because, you know, we all drool a little bit, and who knows what that's doing to me internally.

I'm normally not worried about toxins and additives (HELLO! I eat cheese in a can sometimes!) but the folks at Yellow Brick Home sold me on the idea with their cute glass container of homemade detergent.

WHAT CAN I SAY? I'M A SUCKER FOR PACKAGING! Sue me!

Who knows, maybe this will inspire a whole eco-friendly, green-tastic way of living for me. Or maybe I'll just have some cute soap in my laundry room.

2) Go on day/weekend trips in the surrounding area more often
I spend a lot of weekends on my couch in my pajamas, which is great, but maybe I could change things up and wear jeans outside the house for once. By no means am I an outdoorsy sort of gal, but I can appreciate the occasional vista or sunset or rising tide here in the Great Northwest (so long as there is a major metropolitan area within 1.5 hours) and since my days here are numbered, I really should get outside more.

And who better to do it with than my partner in crime life? We deserve to have some mini-blasty-blasts together.

3) Write more. In general. Overall.
I know that some writers are very strict about how prolific they are in a given time period, but I'm not there yet in terms of my writing prolific-ness. As evidenced by my sporadic blog posts, I really don't have a distinct writing or publishing schedule. I write when I write and sometimes, things get published, and sometimes, things get scrapped.

Even still, I want to write more. In general.

I don't want to start on page quotas or anything like that until I feel comfortable because that is too resolution-y for me. You know how some people get rid of their scales and just gauge their weight gain/loss tango based on how tightly or loosely their clothes fit? I'm going to try and do that with writing on this here ol' blog.

Overall.

So that is how I'm going to spend 2012, in addition to my usual 2011 shenanigans that involve Oreos and reality television.

What are your non-resolutions?

The Real Housewives of Seattle

If you're not into scripted, trashy reality TV shows, then we might not be able to get along because there are few things that I love more than a new episode of The Real Housewives of Atlanta. The southern hospitality mixed with the ghetto-fied Louis Vuitton bags is like a dream come true.

Kim Zolciak? I need to meet you and your wig, mostly because I want to know if your lips have been surgically enhanced or not.

Is Atlanta not your scene? Maybe The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, New York, Jersey or Miami get recorded on your DVR every week or maybe none of these shows meet your television standards. I'm honestly perplexed as to why Bravo has not included the city of Seattle in the mix.

As someone who has lived either in the heart of the city or the surrounding Seattle area for most of her life, I think I have a pretty good idea of what the housewives cast of Seattle would be like.

Let's meet them!

Skylar
As a former dot-com entrepenuer in the early 2000's, Skylar sold her online company for a cool 1.5 millions dollars and now lives in the perfect, pleasantville-esque, neighborhood of Magnolia with her young family. She opened a hot yoga studio last year in order to "have something to do" but her husband's salary at Boeing is enough to pay for her Range Rover, their kids' private school educations, and all the debt that her yoga studio is accumulating. Skylar considers herself to be very liberal and does her part to help the environment by bringing her own mug to Starbucks for her non-fat, no-whip, sugar-free, decaf mocha every morning.

Emma
Born and raised in the tiny bubble of Mercer Island (a.k.a. Millionaire Central), Emma had been living the high life. She met Skylar at University of Washington where they both majored in Communications and were sorority sisters at Tri Delta. Recently divorced, Emma has been down on her luck because she only receives forty grand a month in alimony, so she is a frontrunner in the local Occupy Wall Street movement here in Seattle. As an activist, Emma spends a lot of time baking cookies and creating care packages from her three-story, waterfront home on the Montlake Cut for her OWS brethren who stay outside in the cold night after night.

Maddie
After dropping out of college twice, Maddie spent her early twenties bar-hopping and cocktail waiting at various restaurants and clubs in the Belltown area hoping to land a rich man. While maxing her dad's credit card at the downtown Nordstrom last spring, a pro-football athlete for the Seattle Seahawks mistook her for a model, and the rest, they say, is history. Right now, she is planning her 650+ person wedding, but she has to hurry because there is already a baby on the way for the engaged couple!

Linda
If you're in need of some relaxing lamaze classes or you need to find an amazing midwife/doula, then you only need to give Linda a phone call. After having a traumatic hospital experience with her first child's birth, she has made it her goal in life to provide Seattle women with natural and therapeutic baby care, that is, for those who can afford her services and products. She invented and patented an eco-friendly baby sling, and has since opened three different birthing centers in the local area. Skylar and the expecting Maddie are just some of her many high-profile, big-bank-account clients.

Nicole
Originally from Spokane, Washington, Nicole is a gun-owning, deer-hunting, mountain-climbing Republican OB/GYN who is married to a Microsoft programmer. As an outspoken doctor who is confident in the power of medicine and science, Nicole has a hard time believing that the natural, pre-natal care that Linda provides is medically safe and sound. Even though they are complete opposites, Nicole is a close friend and neighbor to fellow housewife, Skylar, probably because they both drive Range Rovers without any gas-guzzling shame.

Maureen
While she has never been married and tells everyone that she is happy being single, Maureen is still looking for love in the Emerald City. Unfortunately for her, this liberal tattoo artist lives on Capitol Hill: the gayest, most-rainbow-lovin' neighborhood in the area. An avid bike rider and No-Shave-November participant, Maureen is not your typical housewife, but as a true Seattle native, her colorful personality is just what the other housewives need.

Will Maureen find love on this season of The Real Housewives of Seattle?

Will Maddie be able to have her grandiose, NFL-star-studded wedding before she has her baby?

Will Nicole convince Maddie that Linda's birthing center is not safe enough for her delivery?

Will Emma get her head out of her ass and realize how filthy rich she really is?

Stay tuned!

My Ho-Bag Was Retired in 2008

I want to explain the definition of a "ho-bag" because I don't want you to be confused with similar variations of the term. First of all, a "hobag" or "ho bag" (no dash - see that?) is a term usually used by women who are referring to other women, typically their female friends.

It's a way of saying, "Hey, you kiss and do hanky panky with a lot of different people, and I'm judging you, but it's OK, so let's go shopping."

Women are strange creatures, I know.

(And I also know that women should not call other women derogatory names because if men aren't allowed to say those things without being offensive, then how can it be OK for women to say it nicely to each other? And most of the time sometimes, we don't say those names very nicely anyway, but let's not get into the politics of this right now.)

So, a "ho-bag" is a noun too, but rather than referring to the woman herself, the word refers to her bag of tricks that keeps her prepared for, uh, slumber parties and similar one-night activities. Toothbrush, toothpaste, change of underwear and/or clothes, makeup, prescription medications, and a stick of deodorant are the basic essentials that are necessary for a lady who is staying the night elsewhere.

Maybe she has her bag packed because her boyfriend has space issues. Or, you know, they just started dating and she doesn't want to overwhelm him with the products.

Maybe it's packed because she is spending the weekend with a friend.

Maybe she is a gypsy.

Maybe she just likes to bed hop.

WHO KNOWS?! The reasons and possibilities for a woman to have a ho-bag are virtually endless, but I think it's obvious that the ho-bag is an essential morning-after recovery tool.

I have not been utilizing a ho-bag since 2008 because that is the year I started dating my then-boyfriend/now-husband. After being taken off the market officially in 2010, I have put my ho-bag in complete retirement.

When I spent the night at a friend's house this past weekend to have some much-needed girl time, it became very apparent that I am severely out of practice in the packing of a ho-bag.

How in the hell am I supposed to fit all these essentials in one bag?

How did I do this ever?

Have my beauty and hygiene routines become so out of hand that they require multiple bags?

Apparently, yes.

I brought FOUR different bags with me like a crazy bag lady. I had a bag for toiletries and makeup; another bag was for my clothes; a different bag was for some snacks because WHAT IS A SLUMBER PARTY WITHOUT SNACKS?

Not a party, that's what.

One of my friends really out-packed me in the ho-bag department. Not only did she have the one ho-bag with all of her overnight essentials, but she also managed to pack her laptop, camera, and chargers in there. She only had to make the one trip to and from the car with her one bag. I, on the other hand, looked like a disgruntled Christmas shopper with bags criss-crossing my body every which way.

I just needed a mini-van, and my look would have been complete.

I have never really noticed the different between being married and not being married because my husband and I have always been so happy together, but you guys, I cannot pack for shit anymore. For the first time ever, there was a great divide between me and my friends because of my inability to pack for one evening.

Is this why so many moms have cargo-like diaper bags?

Let Me Talk About Harry Potter, Thank You

I don't remember the exact day, and considering how important Harry Potter is to my life I really wish I could remember, but it was in the Autumn of My Sixth Grade Year-eth when I came across Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling tucked away on a bookshelf in the young adult section of Ye Olde School Library.

Hey, 13 years ago is a long time for us spritely folk.

My school was undergoing some serious budget cuts, so I was surprised to find a new book on the shelf, especially one that wasn't covered in a suspicious sticky substance resembling hot dog vomit. It looked extremely out of place with its shiny, colorful dust cover and clean white pages. I was instantly drawn to it, and I quickly grabbed it from the shelf before that one kid in my class licked it because, uh, he licked everything.

There's always one in every class.

Anyway.

You know how Moses found that burning bush in the desert and it was blindingly beautiful and frightening and he was in awe and God was there and was all, "What's up, Moses?" from His place on high? It was kind of like that for me, but I was in my school library and I didn't hear any voices.

Yet.

But seriously, people, this book changed my life. It was like Lumos! up in my head with my imagination running wild across the Hogwarts greens and Quidditch field. I don't think I put it down the entire weekend. I would say that that is a challenging feat for a 12 year old in the middle of the school sports season, but I was an extremely pale and nerdy kid with bad allergies and I was in band, so staying inside and reading a book was not very unusual for me.

Harry Potter isn't just about spells and charms and chocolate frogs though. It's about love and friendship and doing what is right all the time. I know that sounds OH SO TOTALLY BORING ZZZZZ AM I DROOLING, but it's not, I promise. It's easy for us to dismiss the HP series as a bunch of children's books, and while children have enjoyed reading this beloved story about their favorite wizard, these books aren't just for kids.

I re-read all seven tomes virtually every year, and I think I enjoy them more and more every time with my increasing accumulation of wisdom and life experience. If that makes me a little bit of a loser, then I don't want to know what your idea of winning is because YOU ARE SO COMPLETELY WRONG.

Supposedly, scientists and the celebrity fragrance makers have discovered that scents trigger memories and nostalgia and other mind stuff. So that bottle of Britney Spears' Curious that I have about 3.9 drops left inside of? Middle school rages through the VCR of my brain and I see myself in braces and itchy wool sweaters at top speed whenever I spritz some through the air. It's like a yearbook for my nose.

Well, the Harry Potter books? Totes do the same thing, but better because I don't have memories of my bad dental and frizzy hair, and no spritzing is involved.

Instead, I remember a kid who was extremely happy and book-ish and excited about libraries. Waiting for each additional book to be released was more difficult than waiting to open my presents on Christmas morning, and whenever I crack open the worn out spines, I have the same holiday rush of anticipation.

It doesn't matter that I know what's going to happen (SIRIUS DIES EVERY TIME). It doesn't matter that the last book was published in 2009, and Rowling swears that there are no sequels or Hermione spinoffs in the future (sob).

None of that matters because the books are like some of the dearest, oldest friends in my life. And while we learn that friends come and go, it is wonderful to know that there are seven of them that will always be there for you waiting on some shelf and ready to give you advice, make you laugh and cry, and remind you that love and loyalty are all you'll ever need.

OK, that might seem a little esoteric and, quite possibly, rather sad because books as friends?

Really, Shasta?

But I have never felt such a powerful connection to any particular story until then, and while many books have come close, the Harry Potter series will always be closest to my heart.

I didn't care and I still don't care if that's not very "cool" of me. I will gladly be a nerd or a geek or a dork or whatever for this series. If my daughter comes across a book that gives her happiness and makes her not care about being "cool" then I want her to love that story for her whole life as well.

Would it be wrong of me to re-read the series twice in one year? Because I'm thinking about it now.

I Was Not Ready to Rumble

Originally, this post started about gluten-free foods and how I hate them because I ate a slice of gluten-free cheese pizza last week, and I just about died on my way to the bathroom. As it turned out, though, I must have contracted a stomach bug because gluten-free foods might be disgusting, but they are not responsible for ripping open my digestive tract for the last six days.

But they are responsible for the longevity of this season's NBA lockout.

If you can't already tell, this post will be about bodily functions, so if you're squeamish or can't handle these kinds of discussions, then please enjoy another blog post at this time!

I really thought that pizza was what did me in because about two hours after lunch, I felt a rumble in my stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. An additional hour later, I was writhing on my office floor trying not to throw up on my pregnant boss. I was doing the nausea mambo - dry heaving and butt cheek clenching simultaneously.

I know that sounds like a good time to you weirdos out there, but I do not have such inclinations. I usually have a pretty strong stomach, and I have been known to eat entire cartons of ice cream without so much as a burp, so this was miserable.

Once we were done for the day, I bolted into my car and started to head home, but in my nausea-induced panic, I forgot that you can't get anywhere in a timely manner in the greater Puget Sound area between the hours of 4 and 7pm.

I spent the next hour suffering through my 10-mile drive home trying not to shit myself in the car. If you haven't had to endure this, then consider yourself lucky because that was definitely in the Top 5 Worst Experiences of my life. I was frantically calling everyone on my iPhone (Bluetooth - what's up!) trying to distract myself from the pain, but no one was answering and I WAS ABOUT TO POOP MY PANTS from the stress of it all.

When I finally made it home, let's just say that hell hath no fury like a simmering stomach of indigestion because what happened thereafter is probably illegal in most states. For the rest of that evening, I crawled between my bathroom and couch like some sort of broken ass snake. I was cursing that pizza like you would not believe.

Wednesday was no better, and while everyone was enjoying a work-provided turkey lunch, I was sipping on Gatorade like it was the best damn thing I ever sipped!

But it wasn't.

There was hope on Thanksgiving. After picking up my husband from the airport, we made a ham and some mashed potatoes, thanked the Pilgrims, and ate a late lunch. At this point, I was positive that the pizza was the culprit for my digestive troubles because I was cleared out by then! I was enjoying solid foods! The toilet rested quietly in the bathroom!

Then Friday happened, and I have a new reason to call this day Black Friday. It just was not a good day for me and the plumbing. It started with some paralyzing stomach cramps that rendered me immobile and clammy, and it ended with a lot of whining and Googling "death from stomach problems."

Saturday was more of the same. We tried our best to enjoy the long weekend and attempted some eating out and Christmas shopping, but even though I hydrated with water and ate only different varieties of breads, I still felt like there was a time bomb in the seat of my pants.

During one of my quests for an empty ladies restroom, I ran into a friend who was out shopping AND OH MY GOD, PEOPLE, I never wanted to see her less. I mean, she's great! We've known each other for years! We both hate our jobs! But I was thisclose to either throwing up on her shoes or exploding out of my jeans, so I really, really didn't have time for small talk.

I wish I could say that Sunday was better, but it wasn't. I spent most of the day alone because my dear husband went back on an airplane to his work, and while I loved, loved, loved having him home with me because he is the most wonderful man ever, it was really inconvenient running to the bathroom and worrying about whether or not he could hear everything that was happening in there.

Because he could.

Now I'm on Day Six of this ordeal, and I don't know how stomach bugs work - bacterial, viral, magical, I just don't know - but I'm pretty sure I'll never be the same after this.

And neither will my toilet.