Warning: If you are easily disgusted, or have a low threshold for vomiting, read no further.
Okay, I assume that if you have gotten this far I can pretty much say whatever I want. You were warned.
I have ignored those probiotic commercials on television thinking that it had nothing to do with me. I might have been wrong about that. This morning I felt my usual urge after breakfast, so I made my way into the bathroom. I strained, I squeezed, I put my all into it, but no dice. Or should I say, no poop. There was something definitely in there, it just didn't want to come out. I tried standing up and jumping, and then I tried pulling my legs up as far as I could into the fetal position. Still, nothing would come out. The harder I tried, the greater the pressure built up. After twenty minutes of this I pulled my pants up and Googled my predicament on the computer. It wasn't much help. Honestly, this experience has given me so much more respect for what women go through in child birth. To make a messy long story short, after almost forty five minutes the beast within finally burst out. No, it didn't just pop out on it's own. Without getting too graphic, my solution to the problem involved a free condom that was given out last weekend in a local bar, and my finger.