Unicorn Poop- you HAVE to know, don’t you?

unicorn
Confession: Every time someone I know in “real life” tells me they read my blog I spastically scamper around in my brain to remember what I wrote about that day.

If it so happens to be weightloss in my vagina for example, I respect the person even more for admitting that they read it.

I was recently asked if I’m ever embarrassed that people know so much about me because of what I write about. I think that’s kind of a dumb question. I put this gross, graphic and totally personal information out on the interwebz, and then I tag it for search optimization.
If I didn’t want someone knowing about my plethora of issues and homicidal tendencies towards my husband, I wouldn’t blog about it.

But the stuff here kittens, it’s fair game.

So in an effort to overshare to the max, because we’re all friends here and that’s what we do, I shall leave you with this parting thought.

I roasted up a big pan of beets a few nights ago, and had more than a servings worth yesterday as part of my lunch.
Now anyone who has eaten beets knows that the best part about beets is the color they turn your poo the next day. Usually, I’m not one to comment on how pretty my poop is, but beet poop is pretty epic.

So this morning at work I do my usual… ahem… routine. The stalls were all full in the ladies room so I made it quick, and since I’m wearing a dress I just did a quick panty pull up and flush before I opened the bathroom door and walked out.

I didn’t realize that there was someone waiting in line behind me to use the facilities.

Now, the poo had gone down (please tell me I’m not the only one who ALWAYS makes sure of this before exiting the stall), but the water was still in its refresh process. And since there had been beets involved the night before, the water was a kind of brilliant shade of fuchsia.
The woman who walked in the stall after me literally gasped and then exclaimed, “my God Nicole, are you all right?!”

To which I could think of no better way to respond then, “Oh I’m fine. That unicorn I ate last night isn’t setting particularly well though.”

I washed my hands and skipped out. I really, truly, wish I could have seen the look on her face.

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