OP/ED: Just another full-of-hot-air writer
By Christine Esovoloff
Caution: This columm not for the overly lady-like or prudish individual.
After a holiday season filled with copious amounts of chocolate, wine, carbs, multiple turkey dinners, and more chocolate and wine, I decided to take on a new years’ resolution in hopes of starting my year out right. And because I was feeling particularly masochistic, I chose to take on a ‘candida diet’ for ten weeks. For those of you who aren’t aware, a candida diet consists of eating only vegetables, lean meats, and very few carbs. No dairy, no caffeine, no sugar, no fruit, no alcohol, no wheat, and most importantly, no fun. Now, when I put my mind to something like this, I become a bit fanatical about it … so I followed this freakin’ diet to a T, and just as one would expect – it was awful. I had headaches, fatigue, mood swings, and of course, I was STARVING.
But what I didn’t expect were the horrifying side-effects this diet seemed to have on my digestive tract. Now normally I wouldn’t be one to write in detail about digestive disturbances, bodily functions, or the like, but this experience I am about to tell you about was so traumatizing that I knew I must share it with the world … for therapeutic reasons, if nothing else.
Now when men pass gas, fluff, fart, let one rip, or however you want to say it, it doesn’t matter where they are or whom they are with, they usually crank it out with as much force as possible, laugh, comment on its particular bouquet and, if you’re really lucky, they might rate it on a scale of 1-10. Women, on the other hand, prefer to be a little more discreet (unless they are alone). When we feel that a stink-cloud is about to escape, we clench every single muscle in our body with all of our might until we can’t hold it back any longer; then we slowly and silently let it seep out through our still-clenched sphincters before we make our escape in hopes that someone else will be blamed (preferably our husband or children). I call it the ‘Clench, Seep, & Deke’ routine, and 95-per-cent of the time, it works like a charm.
Well, I’ll tell you something … the ‘clench, seep, and deke’ is not effective when following the candida diet. I learned this the hard way and, of course, I learned it in the most public place available to me at the time.
It was early on in the diet so things were still new to me and I hadn’t quite gotten used to the way my body had been reacting. I was wandering around a busy grocery store picking up my weekly vegetables with my kids and looking longingly at all of the deliciousness on the shelves that I wasn’t allowed. I remember the exact moment that it hit; I was in the coffee aisle busy huffing the yummy aromas and whining about being in withdrawal when all of a sudden I felt a burning, cramping, stabbing pain in my stomach.
I immediately doubled over in pain and clutched my belly. It felt like there were a dozen little hamsters inside of my intestines trying desperately to chew their way out. At this point, however, I was still blissfully unaware that a major fart-bomb was on the way, so I decided to just grimace through the pain and continue on with my shopping.
With each step I took the discomfort got worse, there was sweat dripping down my face, and there were strange gurgling noises coming from my stomach.
“Mom, are you okay?” my eight-year-old asked.
“Yup, I’m fine honey.” I whimpered.
I realized the gravity of the situation as soon as I hit the veggie aisle … I needed to fart! Badly. So, in normal pre-fart fashion, I clenched every muscle that was available to clench and started for the door … screw the shopping, it was obvious this thing was coming at full speed and despite my excellent sphincter control, I knew there was no guarantee that thing was going to be silent. I started speed walking for the exit but with each speedy step, the gurgling, popping, burning, hissing, hamster-chewing feeling just got worse. So, I slowed down, but dammit – this thing was coming, and coming fast! I alternated between speed-walking, stomach-clutching, and slowly staggering for a few yards before I realized – I wasn’t going to make it. This thing was right there, banging at the door, demanding to be let out!
Desperate, I dove into the cleaning supply aisle which, thankfully, was empty. I dropped my shopping basket and purse and stopped clenching. Instantly, the pain subsided and I was greeted by the sweet sensation of relief. I spent a few seconds catching my breath, mopping my brow, and feeling grateful that I was still alive.
Phew! That was a close one! And lucky me, it doesn’t even …
And that’s when it hit me, the foulest smell I have ever experienced in my whole life. It was as though I had eaten a dead cat that had been decomposing in a dumpster for three weeks, in 45 degree heat.
Even my children, who normally think farts are hilarious (no matter how smelly), started gagging.
“WHAT’S THAT SMELL?!” they cried, their little eyes watering.
“NOTHING!” I screeched. “Let’s get out of here!”
We started for the door, desperate for fresh air, the dead cat smell clutching to me as I ran, demanding I embrace it. (No dekeing from this situation.)
“Hey Christine!”, I hear a voice call.
Oh dear Lord, take me now!
I turned to see an acquaintance that I hadn’t seen in a while rushing over to chat.
Just kill me, Lord. I’m begging you.
As soon as she got within about three feet of me, her face changed. That kind of, ‘OMG, do you smell that?! What died?’ face. But it didn’t stop her. What a brave soul.
“How are you?” she cooed (still making the face). “I’ve loved reading your articles!”
“Mommy stinks!” my four-year old chimed in.
Nervous laughter
“Oh, thanks! Good to see you but I’ve really got to run! Bye!” I yelled over my shoulder as I ran out the door, clenching back yet another dead cat stink-bomb.
I made it out the door and all the way to the car before gassing my children again.
It was a cold ride home with the windows all the way down.
Needless to say, I was left traumatized, the candida diet was cut short, I smell way better now, and as for my friend in the store … you like my writing, do ya?
Well, this one’s for you.
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