Showing posts with label pee-hole. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pee-hole. Show all posts

5 Things No One Ever Told You About Turning 40

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For years now, I've been hearing about how much my body will change after I turn 40. "Just wait till YOU turn 40...", they'd warn.  And by "they", I mean people at work, aunts, my mom, other people's moms, people on the street, and weird Depends commercials. What they all failed to mention, though, is that shit changes overnight. Literally.  One day you're 39, the next day you're 40 and you don't even recognize yourself anymore.

So, here's all the shit they DON'T tell you about the day after you turn 40:

1: Your bladder will shrink 3 sizes. 
Since the time you were five years old, you've been able to sleep through the night without the need to schlep out of bed to pee (or without wetting the bed). But once you turn 40, not only can you no longer sleep through the night, you have to get up to go pee at least twice a night. And, we're not just talking about the havoc child birth has placed on your ability to "hold your pee in", we're talking about the fact that you can drink 8 oz of water and the next thing you know, Niagara Falls is pouring out of your urethra. Did your body even remember to save some of that shit for sustainable bodily nutrients?  We may never know.

Also, be careful when you're having a sneezing fit... you will have to change your pants if you don't remember to squeeze your legs shut.

Kegel exercises, don't fail us now!

2: You'll go blind.
Not only will your sight change overnight, you'll suddenly be unable to drive at night without cursing oncoming traffic for blinding you.  Which in turn, will cause you to hit curbs more frequently and accidentally, maybe run over squirrels. Maybe. Or, maybe the squirrel was already dead.  Either way, you won't know because you're fucking blind. Also, the squirrel could have actually been a possum. No matter, though, because, again... BLIND.

Also, your computer screen will think you're perpetually drunk and display a blurry screen just to fuck with you.  And, if you were able to read a book without your glasses/contacts when you were 39, at 40, you'll need reading glasses...or in some cases tri-focals...which many don't even know exist.  Did you have Lasik surgery last year? Well, you're going to have to have it again because 40 took your perfect $2,000 vision and pissed all over it.

3. You will need electro-shock therapy for your new psychotic tendencies.
Xanax might help. Or, large amounts a booze sprinkled with fairy dust. But, let me just say that, drastic body/lifestyle changes don't bode well for people with mental issues.  If you were a psycho bitch at 39, lord help us all when you turn 40. Your hormones get all out of whack. People asking stupid questions like, "what's for dinner" will make you burst into tears one day, and make you want to stab a mofo in the throat with a screwdriver the next day.  And, don't let anyone try to steal a french fry off your plate! Blood will be shed! Children will scream bloody murder... Husbands will lock themselves up in bathrooms with video games and dogs will have nervous bouts of explosive diarrhea all over the goddamn carpet if someone tries to steal a fry, yo! Fries are sacred. Like Almond Joys.

I think I digressed.

4. Hair will start popping up in weird places.
We used to make fun of my grandma who spent a few minutes EACH DAY plucking what appeared to be BEARD hairs from her chin.  After she passed away, we used to sit in girly circles sometimes laughing at how she made us help her pluck 'em when she was on her DEATH BED.  Hahaha. But, guess what? That shit ain't funny anymore, y'all. You will need one of those 12X magnifying mirrors and you'll cry when you realize what your face looks like up close, but you'll have to push through it and get to plucking. EVERY. DAY. Until you DIE. For real.

5. Food will do weird things to your body.
And, I'm not just talking about gaining weight.  I'm talking about acid reflux, gas and heartburn.  All of which will send you into a frantic frenzy because you'll think you're dying of some rare form of stomach cancer.  Your entire life up until the eve of your 40th birthday has been spent eating whatever the hell you want WHENEVER the hell you wanted to eat it.  But, suddenly, you'll realize that you aren't able to eat at least 3 hours before going to bed because you will vomit into your mouth just as you're drifting off into deep REM sleep. And, if for some reason you forget that you might die in your sleep if you nibble on something just before bed time, you'll have to prop 874 bazillion pillows up behind you and sleep SITTING UP for fear that you'll choke on your own vomit and DIE. Like the crack whores do. No one wants to die like a crack whore, y'all. But YOU will if you eat after 7 pm.

So, if you're still 39 and facing your 40th birthday soon... you're welcome!  You are now mentally prepared to understand the shit that's fixenta go down.  No, you do not have hairy sasquatch blood... No, you didn't swallow a flesh-eating bug from some third world country... No, you weren't probed by aliens in your sleep. You're just 40.

It ain't the end of the world, but it sure will feel like it some days.

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I don't wanna be an anorexic fat girl!

I've spent three days detoxing from all the crap that is [quite literally] sitting inside me.  Patsy (our dietitian, who you will grow to know and love as much as I do) broke it to us without any sugarcoating, "There are probably 20 pounds of undigested fecal matter just sitting inside you waiting to fulfill their true destiny: to be flushed down the dang toilet!"  And, yes, she used the word "dang" instead of "fucking".  Patsy is just proper that way.

Her graphic bluntness, however, makes me want to puke.

That shit won't leave my brain.  It follows me around all day making everything I eat resemble a steaming pile of shit.  Now I can finally understand why anorexics can go without eating. All they have to do is think of all the gross, undigested red meat rotting away in their stomachs.  It's enough for me to want to overdose on laxatives and spend a few days reading trashy fiction and playing SongPop on the toilet.

Instead, I'll just go with the flow and follow the advice of professionals.  I like to eat.  Crapping all day is a waste of time.  Besides, all the science behind this shit is way over my head. Like: how in the hell does what you drink come out of your pee-hole and what you eat come out of your poop-hole? how does sugar seep into your blood stream?  why does drinking a shit load of water make your blood pressure go down? why the fuck do you have to get up and pee 3 times a night even after you peed like a race horse right before bed time? why the fuck does pork have to contain so much sodium? what's wrong with sodium?!

I could read a Dr. Oz book or wrack my brain for hours wondering how it all happens. Or, I could just say "fuck it" and let the next six months go by in a self-induced ignorance coma while I hold Hubber's hand and let Patsy lead the way.

Note to self: ask Patsy not to ever use the term "fecal matter" around me again.