Popcorn from 0.16 In Up Under
I'd been feeling the bloats and, now aware of the seven stool signs, I was tracking my shits.
I was doing ones (1).
So, having experimented with daily laxative intake I elected to go a half square.
Yeah half square ... whole lot of ouchies.
It turned the poo spigot from a one to a seven with but a single stoppered stops no more stop on three.
Severe cramping pain is now dulled by heavy medication. Can't risk a fart in case it's a shart. Have to sit for every visit.
My poor gurgling wounded bear-tummy (gives soothing pats, coos like a concerned pigeon).
The in laws are coming now. Sigh. I will have to use my sexy Aqua Mist bottle more often, which is no biggie because its trigger action is SWEEEEEEEET (2).
Finally, an apology to all you poor googlers who are accidentally going to come here because of the post title. It was deliberate. I wanted more people to visit. Who knows perhaps someone coming here seeking a gaping wounded anus post intercourse will stay and read awhile. Maybe we'll become blog friends and e-hang out. Though I will have to upfront with them that the subject matter of a fun-filled conversation piece they may like to open convos with should change tack if it's going to be RE: a gaping wounded anus post intercourse.
(1) Hmm, that's confusing because ones are assigned to wizzers outside of that poo scale. Ideally it should have been an alphabetic scale to reduce confusion. Someone should tell Mr Bristol.
(2) I love it so much I filled in a customer feedback form with the peeps that make it. Alas they never got back to me. I think it was because I alluded to Milfs in it.