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Today is going to be all about me.  It is, after all, my blog — and I can cry if I want to…and this week I have wanted to cry like no other.  For those of you who don’t read my blog religiously, I am on crutches now.  At first the idea of crutches was cute and sweet.  Now, 10 days in, it’s just painful.  End of Story.

Not having a boyfriend these past two weeks has really sucked big time.  He should have been here taking care of me, walking the proverbial dog, making my fabulous dinners, and awaiting news from the other side of the bathroom door.  Of course, it’s been made very clear to me over the past few months that I wouldn’t even recognize an incredible guy if they were standing right in front of me.  ๐Ÿ™  

Enough about me pouting.  This blog, actually, was conceived when speaking to my father this past weekend on the phone.  I had him in stitches telling him my trials and tribulations of a gay-crutched out boy at a professional services firm.  So, here goes…

I had been sick to my stomach all week.  When I say sick, let’s just say I never knew if it was the nausea or the exploding diarrhea (yes, folks, haven’d had that in a while) that would be my ultimate demise.
Picture the following.  Seth, in a cute little corporate outfit, on crutches.  Seth, with perfectly coiffed long-er hair with a big, and I mean, BIG boot (picture below).  Seth, sitting at his cute little corner cubicle/office (dreaming of someday soon when they might hire me full time.  Fingers crossed).  There has been my amazing co-worker who has prepared my Honey Nut Cheerios cereal every morning since the surgery.  Even being doted on, I still felt like crap.

I believe it was Thursday that was THE actual worst day of all.  I literally had to “run” (aka crutch real fast) to the bathroom five to six times throughout the day due to tummy issues.  It was horrible.  Each time, I had to go through the following steps and each time, I knew I only had a few minutes to make it to the men’s bathroom all the way on the far side of the office.  Are you ready?

The 5-Mile Run to The Bathroom.

My stomach would rumble.  The wave of nausea would come about and then the wave of intestinal disturbance would soon follow.  Sometimes I would be able to guestimate the amount of time I had before I might have an accident.  Sometimes not so much.   I would collect my crutches and start my (what seemed like) a 5-mile journey to the men’s bathroom.  You see, the bathrooms are literally at one end of the office and I am very obviously at the other end. (Murphy’s Law!)

So, not only would everyone hear me crutch down the halls, but sometimes the people that hadn’t already asked me, would literally stop me to ask what happened.  Um…not now.  Clearly, I’m about to have an accident!  It was at moment’s like these that I would politely tell them that I was taking some very hard antibiotics and I had to “run” to the bathroom.  That would pretty much shut people dead in their tracks.  Okay, I only said that a couple of times, but people got the hint real quick.  Drama queen. 

As I made my way to the FIRST bathroom door.  I don’t know why my office believes in doors so much.  Sometimes it has felt like behind every one door is a second door and sometimes even a third door.  What a waste in my opinion.  Anyway, near the entrance to the first door, there were two lovely gentlemen who would frequently offer to help me open that door.  I never knew that a first door could be so heavy, but after seeing me struggle three or four times, both gentlemen knew to quite ceremoniously rise from their comfortable isotonic, rather ergonomic, desk chairs and assist the poor little handicapped novelty item in the office.  After the first door, I had learned to just back my tuchus into the second door and spin around on the crutches.  If only we had had a camera.  In fact, I have done many a sad (to me), funny (to everyone else) little things over the past week.
Finally, I would arrive to the bathroom.  Great.  Now everyone in the office knew I was in the bathroom.  Yay!  (Note the extreme sarcasm).  My intestinal IBS-like condition was definitely no fun and it definitely was not a silent issue either.

Decisions.  Decisions.  Decisions.

Decision One.  Which stall?  There were two stalls.  One was clearly too small.  Yay!  First decision down.  
Decision Two.  Where do I put my crutches?   I’ve often wondered if those metallic bars, specifically and strategically placed above the toilet, really helped anyone.  Answer: They didn’t help me one bit.  Okay, leave the crutches just to the right of toilet.  Far enough that I won’t bump into them when I sat down, but close enough so that I could grab them at a moment’s notice.  Balance them well.  That always took a minute.  (Stomach growl)).  Time is running out.  Ouch.
Decision Three.  Do I attempt to use the already prepared toilet seat cover or just spread out three pieces of toilet paper?  Oh my god, really?  I always opted for the three pieces of toilet paper, just cause those toilet seat covers are a pain and you pretty much need at least two hands and perhaps even a third hand to rip it off perfectly.  Ok, done.  (Stomach rumbles again).  Oh god, I just wanna sit down.  Please.  Please.  I’m almost there. 
Decision Four.  How do I sit down and not squish my man parts?  Now, here’s where it gets interesting!  You see, my “boot” was so big that I couldn’t just pull my pants down.   Nah.  That would have been too easy.  In fact, I had to gently and cautiously pull my left pant leg down as far as they could go over the boot.  This easily took about 15-30 seconds with my stomach growling something fierce.
Decision Five.  Adjust or not too adjust?  I mean, even when I sat down, because of that damn boot, I had to sit a little sideways to properly cover the toilet seat and be careful not to push off the homemade toilet paper seat cover.  Sometimes I was successful   I’m not gonna lie, sometimes I wasn’t.  Whatever.  And since my man parts were pretty squished, I just had to shift my seated position at least twice, if not three times to un-squish myself and be able to continue.  I’m proud to say, I never had an accident.  Yay me!  It’s the little things, I tell ya.
Decision Six.  Where are the baby wipes when you need them?  I just always had to wipe the best I could and then some.  Ugh! 
God, sometimes I made it just by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.  Truth be told, I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.  Next!?!
The After-Party.
I’ll spare you the details of the goings-on but just know that it was NOT silent and NOT pretty.  It was humbling and embarrassing because everyone knew who had the crutches in the office, so therefore everyone knew who was in the bathroom stall making those funky noises.  Oy.
Washing my hands was always fun too.  Sometimes, after I finished washing my hands, I would wait until the next person entered the bathroom and kindly ask if they could hold the door for me.  (Listen, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do).  Then, I would gracefully walk out (rather, crutch out) of the bathroom and down the hall to my little corner of the world.  Bow my head in complete shame and embarrassment and then get back to work.  It was all I could do.  What are you going to do, mope about it.
When I sat back down at my desk (more like plumped down), sweating on my forehead and smelly from the multiple sweat stains under my arm pits, I was exhausted.  Anyone know a fail safe deodorant because this week I have been seriously considering botox in my pits!!  (Wow…today, you are just learning all sorts of great things about me.)

Sometimes I let out a laugh.  Sometimes I shed a tear.  But I would always let out a chuckle when 30-45 minutes later, the stomach grumbled again and then the intestine would gurgle.  Back at it again.  Grab the crutches and here we go!  Wish me better luck next time, right?

To top off the wonderfully hilarious and painful day I had, I went home and proceeded to spend three straight hours in my bathroom.  I was literally scared to leave.  It was my worst and most painful night in quite some IBS-free time.

And Now…
I am happy to report that though the nausea has stopped, the other ailment has not.  The End.


1)  I am proud to announce that my new book, “How I Learned To Smile From The Inside” is now available in its e-version form at the Kindle Store and the Nook Store.
2)  In my crippled state, I have made one discovery.  I swear that from now on I will ask people on crutches at Whole Foods if they need help.  First of all, they tend to be better looking than average people (at least the one nearby my house) and secondly, if you only knew what it’s like to struggle to pick up Honey Nut Cheerios and their delicious Mediterranean chicken buffet dish.  Please consider helping crutched-out peeps like me in the future.  It will feel good and it will definitely make their day…and who knows, you might meet someone special.  Here’s hoping!
3)  I must apologize that I have not kept you up to date on RuPauls’ Drag Race (#DragRace), but it sure has been as incredible as any other season.  The talent this year was amazing.  Ru-Paul’s Drag Race.  GO and VOTE NOW for “Jinkx Monsoon” or “Alaska”.  They both deserve to win!  Even if you haven’t watched it, go and vote now!
4)  Apparently, you can now avoid jail for tax evasion charges (Lauryn Hill) because Sony will pick up the tab!  Read Here!  I’m just excited for her new songs!  Anyone else?

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A Smile From The Inside Production ๐Ÿ™‚