About to get way too real with you guys…
So two nights ago, I’m curled up in bed reading/diligently studying “Adulting: How to Become a Grown-Up in 468 Easy(ish) Steps,” a book my good friend Catherine gave me for my 25th birthday. Because, obviously, we were having quarter-life crises and needed guidance.
So I am reading (bonus adult points) instead of on social media or watching Netflix.
I am also starting to deeply regret having donuts and eggnog for dinner. Not very adult of me, I’m aware. But I’m easing out of my holiday binge season…so just let a girl live, okay? Baby steps.
Anyway, after eating the most unhealthy dinner ever and already feeling queasy that day at work and not calling off, (very adult of me, or so I thought), my stomach is rumbling something fierce. Like it actually begins to frighten me.
After almost 20 minutes on the porcelain throne, I return back to bed and continue reading.
And then, some time later, while reading a book about Adulting, I, a GROWN ASS WOMAN, shit myself.
Yes- I know. The irony of this is not lost on me.
Anyone can tell it is a shart when they feel one. It just slipped out. Not completely, thank God. But enough. (In my defense, I later discovered I got that nasty stomach virus that’s going around, so it wasn’t really my fault. It’s just shitty. Really.)
And yes- I know it’s gross, and TMI, and of course I am embarrassed and humiliated and horrified. But everyone poops. Everyone gets sick. And in retrospect, the situation is just too ironic and too funny not to laugh about.
I debated sharing this post, but what the hell.
I guess sometimes you have a big girl job and do your taxes and cook things that aren’t just in the microwave, and then other times, at 25 years old, you accidentally shit yourself. Would ya get a load of that- life, I guess.