Meat. It’s what’s for dinner. And lunch. And breakfast.

The long four day weekend had me shoving all kind of meat down my throat. You know, like beef patties and drumsticks and bacon and pork chops and chicken wings. The short holiday also put me in lazy mode, so I didn’t do any yoga over the weekend. My lack of movement and excess of consumed meat lead to some pretty painful constipation. Monday morning I had to meet the future in-laws for brunch. I had a slight bowel movement, but it was more of a painful stabbing in my lower intestine and bunghole. There was a huge boulder-sized turd that wanted to escape, but it was too big and dry for me to pass. I sat on the toilet pushing and sweating for as long as I could, but I was already ten minutes late. The turd was right at the inside edge of my hole, but it wouldn’t come out. It was so uncomfortable to pull my pants back up and drive to brunch, and then sit and eat for two hours. I was not hungry at all because of all the packed poo inside me, cramming up valuable space for food in my stomach. By the time I got home, I had a successful bowel movement. This time I was able to relax on my toilet and slide (forcefully push) the rock-hard poo out. It was painful yet satisfying. I am never eating that much meat again. My poor bunghole.

Heaven for my belly. Hell for my butt.

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