Easter and my colon: a love story

Since Easter is the time of year when we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ, I felt it was the perfect time to attempt to resurrect my bowels through fasting and a series of flushes. If you have ever experienced a flushing of the bowels you will know that it is not all fun and games. In fact, I can assure you that none of it is fun and games. The kinds of things that exit your body, via your rectum, are both disturbing and awe-inspiring. Which brings us to this morning...
I sat there, on the toilet, expressing my dismay at the kinds of noises, smells, and semi-solids my body was producing. "Oh god, that's disgusting!" I repeated over and over again.
And then, suddenly, my litany of exclamations was stopped when I heard a voice, heavy with sleep, ask "Megan? Is that you?"
No, I wanted to say. No, it is not me. I am a burglar who has broken into your house with the sole intention of using your bathroom in the most disturbing way.
The truth is that I had not actually known that my sister was home. We share a common bathroom, accessible through both of our rooms, and I immediately felt a wave of guilt for the aftermath she was now surely to experience.
"Megan?" she asked again. "What are you doing?"
"Ummm..." I paused, "I am just going to the bathroom."
After that, I decided to use the bathroom upstairs and refrain from giving a play-by-play to anyone who might be within listening-distance.


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There was only one egg left in the refridgerator and I was unsure that I wanted to limit my future meal options by wasting it on pancakes.
"Don't worry," I said to the dog. "The eggs are optional, I think." And it was mostly true.

It is the morning after and I am still drinking.
"I don't know that is a good idea." he said to me, trying to take the bottle from my hand.
"Shhhhhh...... I am working." I don't know what I meant at the time, and I know even less now.

I announced to the room, "My name is Megan and I am here for kicks." My declaration was met with silence and I briefly wondered if I had taken the wrong approach to my introduction.

"Her style is similar to that of Lauryn Hill," I stopped for a second, "that is to say if Lauryn Hill were a white, British, Jew who had a bit of a drinking problem."

We sat in her room giggling and talking for hours.
"What would you do if you were dating a guy who you thought was perfect. Gorgeous, well-mannered, thoughtful, honest, faithful, rich, but the catch is he only ever wanted to have anal sex. What would you do?" She asked seriously.
She nodded in response.
"I don't know. My rectum is the one thing on my body that I generally try to avoid having things inserted into. That is a tough call. Can I fake it?"