Terrible.
It appears as though I've reached that age where I now need to take precautionary dietary measures.
It appears as though those days when I could just ladle chili to my heart's content have yielded to my bowel's discontent ... or incontinent ...
The really sad part is that at the exact moment I realized that chili:my stomach::vinegar:once-dormant-volcano-shaped-baking-soda-pile I heard that rather cheerful, but calm lady voice go, "Take Beano before you eat and there'll beano gas."
She's like the voice of my mother sayin' "Umph, I don't know aboutcho' hair," but worse.
A year or so ago, when Rachel visited me in NYC she rescued me with Tums. They're totally one of those things that I'd never have taken because, for reasons I'm not completely sure about, I had arbitrarily reserved ages for when I felt such things would be necessary. Not a particular number, but just that age.
The age when I would start nagging my kids about having kids; the age when I'd refer to my husband by his name and not "Dear" or "Baby" or "Darlin'"; the age when I'd start buying hair dye in bulk.
The other day I was cleaning out my little medicine drawer and I came across a packet of Tums that I'd bought over the course of that weekend. Totally expired. I'm sure I've had stomach aches since then, but I've, uh, ridden them out because it hasn't yet clicked in my mind that I need to carry around a pillbox in my purse with dietary provisions at the ready.
It's just distressing to know that at my next buffet adventure, I might wind up like Uncle Frank and drop those tongs, puff my cheeks out and stab my chest with my fist.
(Also that stupid commercial with those kids putting on that play where they act out "upset stomach," somethin' somethin', "heartburn" somethin' "indigestion!" is totally playin' along in my brain, too.)
Since I'm already touching upon (not too grossly I hope) bathroom-related issues, may I just say that listening to me blow my nose in earnest and then alluding to how tremendous my snot production is (by saying, "My goodness! Someone's got a lot of cold there!") is annoying. And don't act like you're grossly offended by the fact that I happen to be blowing my nose in a stall in the bathroom.
I happen to think it is far worse to sit at your open-air cubicle and schnonk away. But forgive me for displaying that I have some manners. I'm just trying to add "clean" to the list of adjectives that would well apply to my "bright" and "articulate" self.