Friday afternoon I sent an email to four friends. I needed to rant. The normal, not-particularly-interesting family annoyances were piling up. Monkey Boy’s birthday party was less than 24 hours away, and the “Kerri-throws-a-party” psychosis was in full effect. I was also certain my colon was trying to kill me.
…because on top of everything else, like NOT LIVING IN MY OWN FUCKING HOUSE, after some really serious pain this week, an x-ray revealed a blockage in my colon resulting in my body being backed up with an incredible amount of shit. Soooo… you guessed it: doc had me take a WEEK’S dosage of laxatives yesterday. Not to be even more graphic, but let’s just say, things are really moving now. I cannot leave my house today because it’s too risky to be away from a toilet. … I’m actually a little concerned how tomorrow is going to go. I’m hoping I don’t shit my pants in front of all our friends and family.
I pretty much lost my shit, metaphorically and almost actually, in front of them. So you know what every.single.one.of.them did? They mocked me. They sent me emails, text messages and even came to the birthday party and laughed in my face. They offered to bring me adult diapers. They offered to get me drunk. They offered solutions that were more aggressive than passive. Then they hugged me. Because they knew that everything that was wrong at that moment would pass (no pun intended) because it almost always does. And a little perspective about an absurd situation is really all a girl needs sometimes.
Fortunately, the party went really well. There were no accidents of any kind. And I was reminded again of why I love these women. There are just not that many people willing to listen to my shit. But they do. And they make me laugh, at myself more than anything. For that, I will always be grateful.