Because I haven't written about bowel movements in a little while

There was no way I could lie about it, she had caught me red handed - or, better yet, red mouthed.
"What are you eating?" She inquired.
"Beets," I replied, trying to ensure no food escaped my mouth as I answered her.
"How many beets did you eat?"
I swallowed and backed up just a little before responding, "all of them."
She shook her head in mock disappointment, trying not to laugh, and turned around to return to whatever it was that she had been doing before she had so stealthily apprehended me.
Later, when I would spend an hour in the bathroom producing feces in a startlingly, lovely shade of magenta, I wondered if perhaps she had somehow known that I had ultimately already punished myself.