Revenge of the healthy choices

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Ever eat something you think is so good for you, you’re just tickled with yourself for eating it, only to have it turn around and try to kill you? I mean seriously, what in the world could be better for the body than a big ol’ juicy spinach salad with crumbled bacon, strawberries and pecans? (That’s pronounced “pee-cans,” by the way, I have no idea what a “p’con” is.)

What the heck is a “p’con”?What the heck is a “p’con”?

I felt so good about my healthy choice for dinner, I broke my own arm patting myself on the back. Fifteen minutes after laying down in the bunk for the night, I nearly broke my own neck getting to the bathroom.

We’ve all seen them, I’ve written about them, there’s always at least one person at the truck stop making a beeline toward the bathroom with a look of sheer terror and intense concentration on their face. I always feel sorry for these people, especially when I’m that person. I make a point to get out of their way, and mutely point toward the bathroom if they happen to look panicky when they hit the door. Conversation is not something these people are looking for, I know this from personal experience. I greatly appreciate the people who recognize the condition and have done the same for me.

The spinach salad incident was one of those extremely intense situations in which there was absolutely a chance I might embarrass myself if there happened to be a line in the bathroom, or any other impediment along the way. Every step was a stark reminder that motility improves bowel function, and clearly my function was in high gear already.

Thankfully, I retained my adult potty chart status and made it to the bathroom, but only because one of my people recognized the distress walk and held the door for me. By the grace of goodness, the bathroom was empty, so there was no need to hit every hand dryer on the way into the stall to mask the sounds that may or may not have erupted from the depths of my gut. (Side note: I don’t know how it works in the men’s room, because I don’t hang out there, but in the ladies room, there is still a taboo attached to commenting on random, embarrassing sounds. The exclamation of “Wow!” from another stall is not high praise, it’s usually an expression of horror. Also, saying things like “Did you hear that Jake brake?” might elicit nervous titters, but everyone still thinks you’re weird for talking about it, and no one will look you in the eye when you’re washing your hands.)

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I’m going to re-evaluate my healthy choices next time, probably make it a point to ask if the spinach in the salad is under a listeria recall, because I will always recall the spinach salad incident. I kid — I don’t know if the spinach was bad, but I do know it felt like an angry Popeye the Sailor Man was trying to escape from my small intestines after I ate it, and I never want to test fate with the distress walk and spinach salad again.

Lesson learned.

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