Everyone has embarrassing moments.
I don't care who you are.
Even the rich and famous
and intellectually superior
trip up on occasion.
But most just don't talk about it.
You guessed it.
I'm here today to share
my most embarrassing moment.
If you are prudent
and proper and downright
easily grossed out,
discontinue reading this
and go on to the next blog
about puppy dogs
or sweet desserts.
This memorable event took place
about five or six years ago.
My husband and I were both on diets
and had not consumed any type of
greasy food or fast food takeout
for several months.
This particular evening, however,
he had been called to his
cousin's new home to help fix the
water pump.
With no time to fix dinner,
we pulled into the local Burger King
and treated ourselves to a Whopper.
Why on earth we chose that meal
after existing on vegetables and
broiled fish for half a year-
is, well...
obvious!
We arrived at their house-
a beautiful country home
with a built-on gazebo in the back
that overlooked the water
and wandering deer.
The family made me feel welcome
as the guys began working on
the water lines and plumbing.
We relaxed in front of the
big screen TV-
situated in their lovely basement
and we began to chat
and watch some program.
"Grrrrrr..."
My stomach began rolling a bit.
I tried my best to ignore
the tidal wave that was taking place
in my abdomen,
but it only seemed to get worse-
actually beginning to work its way down
into what I suspected might become
an explosive bowel movement.
I pressed my lips tightly together
while I listened politely
and tried to smile brightly
as a storm wreaked havoc
with my intestines.
I began to sweat.
Little hamburger-grease-drops of perspiration
that only added to that noxious feeling
I was trying to contain.
"Rrrrrrrrroll...."
"May I use your bathroom?I asked,
suddenly standing up like a good soldier
and squeezing my buttocks together as
tightly as I could without being obvious.
Of course- the nearest bathroom
was well within earshot
and I had no choice but to make a retreat
and relieve myself
of this gastronomical fetus
I was about to give birth to.
I can't begin to explain it.
But I know you've all experienced it.
The cold sweats.
The twisting cramps.
The sudden, swift explosion
of liquid and stench
that overcomes
the entire room.
And there was no way to
be quiet.
Pockets of trapped air
came out with shreds of lettuce
and yesterday's corn-
all floating disgustingly
in the new white porcelain stool.
I felt so much better when I was finished.
I was hoping that no one heard
and now that I was done-
I could go back and continue
what started out as a nice evening.
I reached to flush.
"..gg...gurggle...."
Nothing.
I flushed again.
Holy crap! The water was turned off
to fix the plumbing! The darn thing
wouldn't flush!
Maybe if I covered it in paper
it wouldn't look so bad-
Maybe I could secretly get my husband
to turn the water back on for a moment
just so I could empty the stool-
Maybe I should go jump in the lake
and save myself the utter embarrassment-
I didn't know which way to turn.
But in the end, I simply walked out-
took my seat back on the sofa-
joined the conversation-
and acted as though
nothing had ever happened.
Once the plumbing had been fixed,
I hurried my husband out to the car-
quickly making my exit
before that hideous bowel-brew
was discovered.
Luckily, we rarely see his cousin.
But, rest assured-
if I ever see them coming-
I'll go the opposite direction.
I feel better now-
Sharing my story and all.
It sure was a Whopper, wasn't it?
