All things considering, it started off as a really normal day.
It was a quiet day at work, just a few days after Christmas and so many staff were away on holidays.
I was having a great morning, catching up with my new friends at work and pottering about on reception, not having any stress and enjoying the peace and quiet of the office.
Lunchtime rolled around and I realised I'd not brought the fresh roll Alun had made me for lunch.
Argh.
I remembered a few weeks ago that Alun had made me mac n cheese (one of my favourite things ever) and I'd brought it to work but then gone out to lunch and left it in the fridge behind reception.
SCORE!
Yeah I know what you're thinking: "OMG don't eat 3-week-old food, Janet. Ew!"
But I was hungry. And hunger trumps logic easily. Any day of the week.
So I heated up the mac and cheese, mouth watering as I watched it go around and around in the microwave, congratulating myself on how clever I am to have found lunch.
Yum.
I ate at reception and didn't feel anything was wrong with my meal. It didn't smell off or taste weird.
All good.
...until a few hours later when I was heading home.
As I was walking up the stairs to the train station, my stomach did something weird. It grumbled, growled and cramped so badly, I had to stop walking and bend over.
Oh my word. What was happening to me?
The pain was intense in my lower stomach.
This was not good.
Something in there was...rotting.
Keep it together, JD. Just a few stops and then you'll be almost home.
The entire train journey, I was sweating, gulping and wondering how I'd keep everything inside of me when it all wanted to rush out of my bottom.
The force was so strong, you guys.
IT WAS AWFUL.
You're a 41 year old woman, JD. You have NEVER in your LIFE poo'ed in your pants and it is NOT going to happen.
Keep it together.
I took deep breaths and I started pleading with my butt hole.
Please. Please don't do anything crazy. I am almost home.
I got off the train and carefully made my way down the ramp to the road.
We live so close to the train station that I could see our roof from the platform.
All I have to do is cross the street and walk up the hill - then I'm home free and can toilet in peace and privacy.
Just 100 steps, JD. You can do this.
But whatever was inside wasn't going to wait any longer.
And a little leaked out.
This is appalling.
Nooooooooo!
This is NOT happening.
Just 70 more steps.
We live on a very busy intersection between 2 main roads so traffic was everywhere. There were people out walking, pushing prams and leading dogs, cycling and chatting.
THIS IS NO TIME FOR A POO, JD.
Please, bum...please bear with me.
Just 50 more steps.
But something exploded down below.
It was like my guts - the very core of my body - released the kraken.
Without even thinking about it, RIGHT THERE IN THE STREET, I dropped my handbag and simultaneously pulled down my pants...AND POOED IN SOMEONE'S GARDEN.
Cars were going by, people were walking - it was a normal summer's day.
And there I was squatting and SQUIRTING like nobody's business.
It was so explosive it was almost unreal.
It also happened so fast and was over in the space of probably 40 seconds.
I pulled my pants up in what seemed like the blink of an eye and squelched my way the remaining 40 steps to our front gate.
And wouldn't you know it? This was the one day that Alun was home before me. He is never home before me.
But today, of COURSE he was.
He greeted me at the gate with a big smile "Gorg!"
I shook my head and pushed past him, muttering "I've poo'ed my pants. Don't talk to me"
And Alun just nodded and left me to it.
No more mac and cheese for me.
EVER.
It was a quiet day at work, just a few days after Christmas and so many staff were away on holidays.
I was having a great morning, catching up with my new friends at work and pottering about on reception, not having any stress and enjoying the peace and quiet of the office.
Lunchtime rolled around and I realised I'd not brought the fresh roll Alun had made me for lunch.
Argh.
I remembered a few weeks ago that Alun had made me mac n cheese (one of my favourite things ever) and I'd brought it to work but then gone out to lunch and left it in the fridge behind reception.
SCORE!
Yeah I know what you're thinking: "OMG don't eat 3-week-old food, Janet. Ew!"
But I was hungry. And hunger trumps logic easily. Any day of the week.
So I heated up the mac and cheese, mouth watering as I watched it go around and around in the microwave, congratulating myself on how clever I am to have found lunch.
Yum.
I ate at reception and didn't feel anything was wrong with my meal. It didn't smell off or taste weird.
All good.
...until a few hours later when I was heading home.
As I was walking up the stairs to the train station, my stomach did something weird. It grumbled, growled and cramped so badly, I had to stop walking and bend over.
Oh my word. What was happening to me?
The pain was intense in my lower stomach.
This was not good.
Something in there was...rotting.
Keep it together, JD. Just a few stops and then you'll be almost home.
The entire train journey, I was sweating, gulping and wondering how I'd keep everything inside of me when it all wanted to rush out of my bottom.
The force was so strong, you guys.
IT WAS AWFUL.
You're a 41 year old woman, JD. You have NEVER in your LIFE poo'ed in your pants and it is NOT going to happen.
Keep it together.
I took deep breaths and I started pleading with my butt hole.
Please. Please don't do anything crazy. I am almost home.
I got off the train and carefully made my way down the ramp to the road.
We live so close to the train station that I could see our roof from the platform.
All I have to do is cross the street and walk up the hill - then I'm home free and can toilet in peace and privacy.
Just 100 steps, JD. You can do this.
But whatever was inside wasn't going to wait any longer.
And a little leaked out.
This is appalling.
Nooooooooo!
This is NOT happening.
Just 70 more steps.
We live on a very busy intersection between 2 main roads so traffic was everywhere. There were people out walking, pushing prams and leading dogs, cycling and chatting.
THIS IS NO TIME FOR A POO, JD.
Please, bum...please bear with me.
Just 50 more steps.
But something exploded down below.
It was like my guts - the very core of my body - released the kraken.
Without even thinking about it, RIGHT THERE IN THE STREET, I dropped my handbag and simultaneously pulled down my pants...AND POOED IN SOMEONE'S GARDEN.
Cars were going by, people were walking - it was a normal summer's day.
And there I was squatting and SQUIRTING like nobody's business.
It was so explosive it was almost unreal.
It also happened so fast and was over in the space of probably 40 seconds.
I pulled my pants up in what seemed like the blink of an eye and squelched my way the remaining 40 steps to our front gate.
And wouldn't you know it? This was the one day that Alun was home before me. He is never home before me.
But today, of COURSE he was.
He greeted me at the gate with a big smile "Gorg!"
I shook my head and pushed past him, muttering "I've poo'ed my pants. Don't talk to me"
And Alun just nodded and left me to it.
No more mac and cheese for me.
EVER.
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