Ok...so this post is going to be a little, well....out there. DISCLAIMER: If you are too cool to talk about poop, please visit the blog at another time to avoid the embarrassment of us both. The ideas that make up this post are not typical of me but have caused paranoia in mind. Read, ponder and then tell me if I'm crazy.
I love my husband and I love his family and friends- the reason I love them so is because we can talk, and therefore laugh, about anything! Even poop. The second worst p word. Twice now during a visit to Dallas our conversation has somehow come to the point where we were talking about "poop stories" - hilariously funny yet heinously embarrassing poop stories. As I sat and listened I became convinced that everyone in the world has some sort of poop story...EXCEPT ME! Should this be encouraging or does this mean that my moment is yet to come? If it is still lurking out there to get me, should I just hurry up and get it over with or should I try to prolong it as much as possible? I can't go on. Not with this hanging over my head. I am now convinced that someday, in the worst possible situation, I will poop in my pants or worse. Questions? Comments? Concerns?
Ok...now I can honestly vow that I will never mention "poop" again within this blog. Maybe.