An (apparently) heavy load...

WARNING: Contains scatalogical content. Most normal people would probably find this offensive - I know I do!

I have an affliction. A "thorn in my side." A particular difficulty that I don't know how to overcome... or indeed, if it even can be overcome!

I have problem poo.

(No - it is NOT funny!)

See, I keep plugging the toilet. (And no, I do not mean with paper.)

Invariably, the first "load" I deliver is of sufficient diameter to... well, I don't know if it would choke a horse - I'm pretty sure horses have more sense than to go for that shit - oh! no pun intended! - even though dogs do go for horse-shit...

Anyway, it doesn't seem to matter what the, ahem, "texture" is, be it hard or soft, it just goes straight for the opening and plugs it solid.

There's something in there about specific gravity. If it would float around a bit, maybe it would get pointed in the right direction, break in half, I don't know!

And yes, I have, in fact, tried modifying my diet and exercising. The results are the same.

It used to be worse. I used to... (oh god, the things I blog about!)

I used to save it up.

NOT, I assure you, intentionally! But on a day where I'm rushing around, nothing of that sort would emerge. If I had several busy days in a row, tough luck, I'd just carry it around, until I arrived at a day when I could relax and stay home.

Then the miracle would finally happen - and believe me, it was QUITE a relief by that time!

But it would plug the hole. Back when I was with Hubby, the standard Saturday-morning-greeting was "it's plugged again."

See, I am of the firm opinion that UN-plugging such devices is a job for a MALE.

(I am positive the gene is on the Y chromosome. It's in the contract. Gotta be there somewhere...)

Hell, THEY'RE the ones the designed the thing! The plumbing STACK is always a 4-inch pipe. What in the WORLD possessed them to make the pipes from the toilet only two inches in diameter? Job security? As Red Green used to say, "If the women don't find you handsome, at least they should find you handy!"

Hubby, of course, predicatably, finds my situation hilarious. Boys usually do: dirt, mess, smelly things, gross stuff - I've never met a man who was grossed out by much that has to do with... with the things humans produce.

"Your just full of it, Dear," he would say, if he could get the words out, for laughing so hard.

Harrumph. He should talk!

But nowdays, now that my life is slightly LESS stressed than when I was back there, I'm more... regular. Even on workdays!

But it still plugs the hole.

And no, I am not going to run outside in my nightie looking for a stick to poke it with. Neither am I going to use the item which should be used to clean the bowl to poke it with - let's get one thing straight: I AM NOT GOING TO POKE IT WITH ANYTHING. Point finale.

I do not own a plunger. As I indicated earlier, those are things BOYS play with. And POKING such stuff is definitely something boys do!

So, it has occurred to me that perhaps, inside, I am... different. Differently-shaped. Perhaps it's not my stomach that has grown large over the years. Perhaps it is my "large intestine."

Maybe it stretched, over the years, packing all that stuff and carrying it around for days on end?

Maybe I need a - do they even DO these? - a colon tuck.

Sort of like taking it out, wrapping the whole thing in duct tape so it's narrower, and putting it back in. The "Red Green" solution.

(I quite expect now that nobody will EVER invite me over to their homes again. If I haven't grossed out my very last friend or relative by now, I am sure that, at the very least, they will not want me gumming up THEIR works, so to speak.)

This is a serious affliction!

I want an outhouse.