This is probably one of those posts I shouldn't post, but it's been wanting to write itself out for a while, and it's not nearly as bad as I could make it. Still, consider this a warning.
On Poop
It's not that you have to go, it's that without vigilance, with a surprise guffaw or sneeze or cough or letting a fart slip, there's a good chance of blasting through your pants. With relaxation, the entire fluid contents of your large intestine will happily discharge. With the slightest encouragement, they will launch with enough force to splatter over the other stall, the dividing partition, and three women's stalls to the far wall.
And it's quite a mixed blessing: there is a lot of relief at being rid of such a foul gutload, but rarely after a dozen or so events.
On Hunger
There comes a point it stops existing as most people know it. I think of my stepfather, who has been "dieting" for longer than I've known him, saying, "I'm HUNGRY!"
But it's not like that at all.
Eventually you realize that loudly declaring, "I'M HUNGRY" and conspicuously going about preparing or procuring food takes a lot of energy. There comes a point when hunger is not the gnawing but a refusal of the muscles to fire. It's not that your belly's growling but that you need to stop and chat with students between each floor of the staircase.
And even when you've just eaten, before food passes through the initial holding tank and the roller-system goes into high gear, the thought of a nice, juicy X makes you hungry. No matter that there's no room in the belly, no matter that it's been, oh, 50 weeks since you've seen a nice bit of juicy beef, it could be the idea of a plate of shrimp, peanuts, pork chop, pig whatnots, fried eggs, squid, octopus, marinaded tofu, or--glory of glories--a bowl of refried beans, and your system yearns.
Again, it's not necessarily hunger in the conventional sense. It's that you would be a better, happier person if that big pile of X were injected directly into your bloodstream.
It's not so much the thought that if it weren't so hot you could ladle up a bowl full of the pig and onion bubbling in a deep-wok fry, it's that it would probably do you well.
The good news is that if the endo doc keeps on schedule, I'll be in Hat Yai for my in-country anniversary, and I'll be able to get a steak.
On Poop
It's not that you have to go, it's that without vigilance, with a surprise guffaw or sneeze or cough or letting a fart slip, there's a good chance of blasting through your pants. With relaxation, the entire fluid contents of your large intestine will happily discharge. With the slightest encouragement, they will launch with enough force to splatter over the other stall, the dividing partition, and three women's stalls to the far wall.
And it's quite a mixed blessing: there is a lot of relief at being rid of such a foul gutload, but rarely after a dozen or so events.
On Hunger
There comes a point it stops existing as most people know it. I think of my stepfather, who has been "dieting" for longer than I've known him, saying, "I'm HUNGRY!"
But it's not like that at all.
Eventually you realize that loudly declaring, "I'M HUNGRY" and conspicuously going about preparing or procuring food takes a lot of energy. There comes a point when hunger is not the gnawing but a refusal of the muscles to fire. It's not that your belly's growling but that you need to stop and chat with students between each floor of the staircase.
And even when you've just eaten, before food passes through the initial holding tank and the roller-system goes into high gear, the thought of a nice, juicy X makes you hungry. No matter that there's no room in the belly, no matter that it's been, oh, 50 weeks since you've seen a nice bit of juicy beef, it could be the idea of a plate of shrimp, peanuts, pork chop, pig whatnots, fried eggs, squid, octopus, marinaded tofu, or--glory of glories--a bowl of refried beans, and your system yearns.
Again, it's not necessarily hunger in the conventional sense. It's that you would be a better, happier person if that big pile of X were injected directly into your bloodstream.
It's not so much the thought that if it weren't so hot you could ladle up a bowl full of the pig and onion bubbling in a deep-wok fry, it's that it would probably do you well.
The good news is that if the endo doc keeps on schedule, I'll be in Hat Yai for my in-country anniversary, and I'll be able to get a steak.
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