How something so immense was supposed to emerge from an orifice so small was a notion only the devil, himself, could conceive. I let out a cry of pain as I called upon my breathing exercises. Hee hoo. Hee hoo. Hee hoo. This was a result of my actions. I had asked for this. My creation. And it brought tears to my eyes; though, I was unsure of the nature of the tears. Was it pain or was I just happy that it was finally happening?
I cursed myself for choosing to birth it the natural way. I knew I should’ve accepted the morphine. It felt like a herd of sharks wielding scimitars was trying to besiege a drainage pipe. It was like the grim reaper was prodding the nozzle of a straw with a baby seal. It was like a big ol’ thing was trying to fit through a small ol’ thing.
I balled my hands into taut fists until the color had bled from them. How much more of this could I take? I’ve been trapped in this bleak, white room for hours, and it feels as though no progress has been made. Unfortunately, I knew it was past the point of getting it surgically removed. I really wouldn’t have minded the scar had I known I’d be in this much pain.
What felt like a century had passed and I could feel my creation crowning. Progress was beginning to take form. Not much longer until I’d be free from this agony.
I had finally reached the home stretch. With all my might, I gave one concentrated push. I let out an exasperated sigh and down it fell until it collided with the water below.
And that is the last time I ate an entire box of mozzarella sticks.
Yeah, you just read an entire post about a person taking a poop. Don’t you feel shitty (even though you probably guessed the outcome after the first sentence)? I certainly do. The guy next to me on the train is mapping out what looks like an intricate, architectural design on some futuristic, space software, while I sit here and write about poop.
Also, it may come as a bit of a surprise, but I don’t know much about the pain that accompanies the joys of giving birth, so, to you mothers, feel free to let me have it in the comments section below.
I read an article that working in a cubicle actually makes you dumber. I'm starting to believe it's true.