My poo prediction for February was correct: I have been a pooping machine. My bowels have regularly produced satisfying amounts of turds for me to admire before flushing. However, it has cursed my fiancé. He is a monster pooper when it comes to droppin’ turds, and I envy his 3-4 daily poo sessions. But for a week he had been plugged up. So after the first two days of his mediocre bowel movements, he went into panic mode. He started looking up why this was happening, and him being a hypochondriac he assumed he had colon cancer. He’s been mopey and whiny about not being able to poop. I had very little sympathy for him because his “not pooping” means he is still pooping everyday, just not as frequently or in large quantities. When I am “not pooping,” it means there is zero poop coming out of my butt for days. His whininess went on through the end of the week, so being the sweet fiancée that I am, I made sad faces with him and asked how his butt was feeling. He told me it throbbed every once in a while. Oh, well duh, you have hemorrhoids. Case solved. It has now been two weeks since the hemorrhoids appeared, and they seem to have shrunk back up his bunghole because his butt is back to its normal poo-raging self. That lucky jerk. It’s nice that he went through this experience though because he now sympathizes with me when I’m constipated.