In Which I Have Flatulence

As a nursing student, I come across some really nasty stuff. Coffee ground emesis (that's indicative of an upper GI bleed, thank you), that unique smell of someone with C. Diff, gangrenous toes (vomit), diarrhea after someone drinks CT contrast (which I had to clean up after and almost died) and weeping wounds.

I try my hardest to not gag and embarrass the patient, though I always go back and laugh about it with my fellow nursing students. Sometimes I think humor is the only way to get through nursing school.

But I digress.

After a consultation with my physician, it was suggested to me that I try Alli to get those last "20 or so pounds off", to quote the MD. Since it's FDA approved and worked for my uncle, I figured I would try it, what with being on my whole "I'm going to lose the rest of this weight or die trying" kick.

So after I drop the kiddos off at school, I head to Hell-Mart, get myself the Alli starter kit, some Slim-Fast, a pedometer, a new scale and some Crest Whitening Strips, because if I'm gonna be skinny, I want to have a beautiful white smile as well, right?

I get home, shimmy off my clothes, step on the scale and...I've only gained one pound from the last time I weighed in, so I was 178.6 this morning.

Commence happy dance.

Feeling uplifted, I drink my Slim-Fast and eat half a banana, take my Calcium supplement and the Alli pill and head to the gym. Now, being a good girl and doing what my MD said, I set the timer on the treadmill for 60 minutes, figuring that I'll do the weights for the other 30. No biggie, right?

Wrong.

So I'm happily jogging along at a fine speed of 6 mph at a 2% incline, and all of a sudden, I feel my stomach lurch. You know the feeling, don't tell me you don't. And I've got 20 minutes left on my timer for the treadmill and I'm all like, I can do this, no problem.

Then they start coming. Farts, toots, foofies, flatulence, passing gas, whatever the hell you call them. First they're the little ones that you can pass off as a squeak of your chair if you're in class, or the sound of your shoe on the floor. Then the big guns started. It was reminiscent of my grandfather after a ham and bean dinner during the holidays.

Good news is, it stopped eventually and no one was harmed in the noxious fumes.

In Which I Say Screw The Gym

It is Monday freaking morning. I hate Mondays. It means that I have to wait another week before I get to watch football again, another week until I get to spend hours with my children, and another week until I get to sleep in past five thirty.

Stupid Mondays.

I decided that I was going to skip to the gym today. There are so many reasons that I'm rationalizing in my head: I don't have any clean gym clothes, my back hurts, it's raining, my contacts aren't going in today, and I'm feeling a cold coming on. I should go to the gym because I totally binged on cookies this weekend (Keebler is the devil) but...no.

Whine, whine, whine. Bitch, bitch, bitch.

I had to get the kids to school (and of course the bus was late), and now I'm going to sit my fat ass on the couch and work before my friend comes to pick me up for class.

Someone told me I need to stop being so negative all the time. Okay, so let's try this again. I got to sleep until 5:45 this morning. I got snuggles from a baby boy. My ass is decidedly smaller, so I will sit my not-so-fat ass on the couch now. And because the bus was late, I got to see that super hot daddy putting his kid on the other bus that comes here. Om nom nom.

On that note, maybe I should go to the gym...