The E-Z Colon Blow Treatment
3/22/09 10:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wobblerlorriI don't know what the deal is, but ever since my WLS, I've been cereal-and-milk intolerant. Not lactose intolerant, mind you -- I can drink a glass of milk if I want, or have ice cream. No issues. I can eat dry cereal by the metric ton if I want. No issues.
I just can't put them together.
Tonight I was still hungry (supper was a bad pot pie, which I didn't eat much of), and it had been long enough since my last excursion in cereal-and-milk that I had apparently forgotten what happens. So I went and prepared a nice cup of Grape-Nuts and no more than 1/2 cup of milk, then settled down to watch Family Guy.
All went well throughout Family Guy and 3/4 of the way through American Dad, when I felt those tell-tale deep gurglings in the lower intestine. "Oh no," I thought. "It can't be. I didn't have that much!" So I carefully pressed out a quiet yet horrific tweet of a fart. But there it was -- that somewhat liquidy, hot, slippery afternote that tells you it's Not Just Gas. And the gurglage has increased.
So I divested myself of cats and went to the Room of Refreshment. As soon as I had placed my butt on the receptacle, it let loose with a veritable torrent of malodorous maleficence. Wave after wave sluiced from my body into the china pot. Finally I felt that this barrage was over. Wiped and stood up. Evil yellow brown sludge, still bubbling sluggishly, stared back up at me. I flushed; luckily nothing stuck to the walls.
I feel lighter now, but I'm no fool: I know another onslaught is waiting further up the line. I can feel it working its way down.
Cereal and milk, why must you be so tasty and yet so evil?
I just can't put them together.
Tonight I was still hungry (supper was a bad pot pie, which I didn't eat much of), and it had been long enough since my last excursion in cereal-and-milk that I had apparently forgotten what happens. So I went and prepared a nice cup of Grape-Nuts and no more than 1/2 cup of milk, then settled down to watch Family Guy.
All went well throughout Family Guy and 3/4 of the way through American Dad, when I felt those tell-tale deep gurglings in the lower intestine. "Oh no," I thought. "It can't be. I didn't have that much!" So I carefully pressed out a quiet yet horrific tweet of a fart. But there it was -- that somewhat liquidy, hot, slippery afternote that tells you it's Not Just Gas. And the gurglage has increased.
So I divested myself of cats and went to the Room of Refreshment. As soon as I had placed my butt on the receptacle, it let loose with a veritable torrent of malodorous maleficence. Wave after wave sluiced from my body into the china pot. Finally I felt that this barrage was over. Wiped and stood up. Evil yellow brown sludge, still bubbling sluggishly, stared back up at me. I flushed; luckily nothing stuck to the walls.
I feel lighter now, but I'm no fool: I know another onslaught is waiting further up the line. I can feel it working its way down.
Cereal and milk, why must you be so tasty and yet so evil?
