I Wish I Were Making This Up But I’m Not

I am lactose intolerant. It has been previously documented here, here and here. For years, I’ve dealt with it. But due to deep rooted psychological hang-ups the resulting obstinacy issues I am currently exploring in weekly therapy, I refuse to take lactaid pills. Consequently, I have figured out the magical amount of dairy I can eat without setting off The Shits. General stomach pain and excessive gas? Fine. I’ll deal. But suffering long years of lactic hell has taught me exactly what I can eat while still avoiding Total Tummy Annihilation.

For lunch today, I suggested the office order in pizza. We’ve had a rough week and it seemed like a suitable Managerial Band-Aid. Plus, I could eat two or three slices and stay within my dairy sweet spot. After debating the pros and cons of various pizza providers, the majority finally settled on Papa Johns. It came, I ate two slices, and returned to my regularly scheduled work program. As expected, about 20 minutes later, my stomach started to rumble. Five minutes after that, I got gas. Chair rumbling, lift-up-your-leg-to-let-it-all-out, registers-on-the-Richter gas. With my office door closed, the Lawyerly Ventilation System creates hurricane worth air circulation, so I thought nothing of sitting at my desk, doing research and farting away. Until I shit my pants.

Seriously.

It was one of those farts where you have to push a little to get it out; where there’s just a tad bit of thrust behind it. I guess the combination of forceful fart and lactose-induced stomach unrest was just too much because as soon as it broke the butt cheek barrier, I knew something was wrong. For about eight seconds, I was in denial. I mean, who wants to admit they shit their pants two days into their 30’s? But reality is reality. I was sitting in my stink-bombed office in poopy panties.

Panicking, I got up, grabbed the bathroom key and waddled to the facilities. Thankfully, the Ladies was empty and I could rectify the situation in peace. It took half an econo-roll of TP, three enormous wads of damp paper towel and surgical-like hand washing to make me feel clean again. Not to mention that I trashed my undies in the sanitary napkin receptacle and am now experiencing Workplace Commando.

Yep.

I’m just about to walk down to CVS and buy some lactaid pills. And possibly a diaper.

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15 Responses to “I Wish I Were Making This Up But I’m Not”

  1. Jo Says:

    Wow. I’m so sorry. Can you go home early? I totally would.

    I feel you pain in the lactose intolerance department. I can’t even drink Lactaid, it’s soy milk or nothing. However, I LOVE cheese and creamy sauces but I eat them at home so I can run to the bathroom if need be.

  2. lyssabits Says:

    Would it make you feel better to know I’ve done that a couple of times, in fact, as recently as early Saturday morning? I do have the excuse of being in intolerable pain at the time, but somehow that doesn’t ease the embarrassment. I injured my back somehow Friday evening doing absolutely nothing at all and was sacked out on the couch, unable to move. I ended up laying half-prone on the floor at 4 am after rolling off the couch in a failed attempt to get to the bathroom on my own when it happened. So I lay there for an hour until my blessed cat went upstairs to fetch my sleeping husband. (That’ll show all the cat-haters out there. My cat saved me from my own stubborn refusal to ask for help.)

    So changing your own poopy panties is embarrassing, but at least you didn’t have to ask a very squeamish boy to fetch you clean ones and then explain why at 5 in the morning after he’s had to haul you up from under the coffee table and walk you to the bathroom. And then he had to help me take off the gross ones and put on the clean ones coz I couldn’t bend down far enough to do it myself.

  3. deutlich Says:

    I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt. THEY HURT!

    I AM DYING!

    BWAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

  4. Sara Says:

    I cannot even tell you how much better this made my day. Sorry it had to happen to you though!

  5. Maxie Says:

    Oh god, kat. Just try not to poop on Saturday.

  6. Anonaesq Says:

    Odd, as one slides into decrepitness, it usually bladder incontinence AND THEN bowel incontinence.

  7. Malnurtured Snay Says:

    I would die if I were lactose intolerant – I drink like two gallons of milk a week. Mmm. Milk.

  8. Herb Says:

    Yuck. You do realize all this stuff will be replayed some day during your Supreme Court confirmation hearings?

  9. Mad Cabbie Says:

    Don’t wash those undies please, I know a gentleman who collects women’s panties with impressive skidmarks, and he pays top dollars too.

    What a way to celeabrate your birthday by doing the same task you did 30 years ago! Great post!

    Happy Birthday.

    MC

  10. LiLu Says:

    Oh. My. Gob.

    No wonder we didn’t get drinks tonight…

  11. Sgt. SW Says:

    would it make you feel better to know I am reading this from the toliet? I have Chrons disease so i pretty much have a food sweet spot which i exceeded today to be polite. thus i am on the can tonite. ugh.

  12. Jennifer E. Says:

    You poor dear!

    Of course, this reminds me of the Christmas when my husband gave my mother Beano. She’s famous for her gas.

  13. ephemient Says:

    There’s a word for it: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=shart

  14. Emma James Says:

    You have just described my worst nightmare. I guess this means no more pizza?

  15. flippy Says:

    I’m so happy for this story right now — and I’m glad to hear your 30s are as impressive as your 20s. Long live Katherine’s wonderful tales!

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