In the past couple of months my post baby body has gone back to it's pre-pregnancy, pardon the pun, shitty digestive system. After the blessed blessed reprieve (which seriously was so nice because can you imagine alternating between debilitating constipation and explosive diarrhea while knocked up) of pregnancy well my digestive tract is taking it's duty to make me miserable rather seriously.
And this week, at work, what I have always worried about happened.
I had stomach cramps followed by an ass explosion . . .no biggie. And then I realized. There was no toilet paper in the stall.
Oh y'all. I was trapped in a stall with all the very fancy ladies of my office roaming around and all I wanted was to wipe my ass. I tried to peel any spare bits off the last roll. I even used a damn scrap off the floor (I know, but I was desperate). I finally waited it out until the ladies left the room and then did the shame shuffle a stall over and cleaned up.
You would think that shitting on a table in labor would make these things less humiliating. And you would be wrong.