The title of this entry was supposed to be Why Not. Because of an off-the-chain Saturday that included a reunion with a friend I hadn’t seen in over twenty years and a super-yum dinner that was followed by another personal healing session at Thai Time, I was all geeked up to write about a new mind-set I was on the brink of adopting. From this more positive point-of-view, why should I allow this disease to slowly kill me when I was doing so many different things –like watsu, qi-gong, acupuncture, the chiropractor, and even my sessions at Thai Time– to prevent that from happening. Today was the day that I was going to begin to will myself back to health.
But then _ _it happened.
To say that I sharted would imply that I was trying to get away with a one-cheek sneak that someway, somehow went terribly, terribly wrong. No, it wasn’t like that at all. The entire episode was more akin to an unstoppable force versus an immobile (and muscle-less) object. When all was said and done, the collateral damage wasn’t nearly as bad as the psychological damage. And needless to say, I forgot all about that new-and-improved mind-set…for the day.
I just wish I didn’t have to learn the lesson of “_ _it happens but _ _it washes off” so literally.
Hi Jason,
I really could not understand the second part of your blog . Maybe when Fehmeen calls me after school I will ask her to explain to me.
Love You
Maheen
it’s two steps forward, one back… not vice versa.
Don’t feel bad. Doss sharts himself on a regular basis. He just enjoys it.
Hang in there, Jason.
Oh Jase,
always… you make me LOL.
Uncle Mike just mumbles… “what happened?”
more LOL
I so wait for your posts and to be rewarded with such a luscious tidbit—
AN
Aww…dude…I feel ya! The psychological impact is huge. I shall for the first time ever share (semi) publicly that I too have sharted…while on a train into Philly. I must have eaten something horribly bad because there was simply no stopping it & no effing bathrooms on a commuter train. I had to get off at the next stop, waddle to a bathroom, attempt to clean up some, find a pay phone (it was the 80’s), and call my mom for help. Lesson learned = ___it happens!
And here I was really hoping that my visit would be the most memorable part of that weekend…but who can compete with poop? It’s taboo, it’s stinky, it’s a part of everyone’s day, and damn, it’s just funny. What IS it about poop? It’s a much bigger part of my daily life than I’d prefer, with a toddler in diapers, a preschooler who insists on wiping himself, and a cranky, aging cat who’s going to be on a one-way trip to the vet the next time he poops on the carpet, I swear…
Jason, don’t let the little s–t get to you. Or even the big s–t. Much love,
a