Rambling and Padambling...

A couple of years ago, I confessed that I'm one of those people who are gassy and sometimes inadvertently rips ass at the most inconvenient times. I have difficulty burping, and I guess the gas has to go somewhere, which is usually south. ;-)

Anyhoo, after the first of the year, I stuck ALL of us on Weight Watchers points plan. It wasn't really a New Year's resolution, but sort of a plan to make us all lose some pounds and get healthier.
The Big Kid and Little Guy don't follow it if they're out of the house, but there is no longer ANY processed junk here to snack on. I got one of those "choppers" that cut veggies into little itty bitty chunks and have been slowly replacing meat in low-fat sauces with vegetables, etc (you can hide them better that way).

I've lost 17 pounds since the first of the year (which has hardly made a dent, IMO), Hubby has lost a bunch, and Little Guy has lost a few. It's hard to tell with Big Kid, through all the layers of clothes he wears (his new thing is not to change his dirty clothes, but add a layer of clean on top of the dirty, which is an entirely different story for another day).

Oddly enough, while all the extra fiber in our diet has increased the number of ducks my guys are stepping on, my own barking spiders have inexplicably gone silent. Now I'M usually the one who gets spot-welded in the middle of the night. The dogs aren't afraid of me any more. For the first time, they come running to ME when somebody is blaming them for being the poofter or putting a hurt on their noses.

Except when I'm in the grocery store.

For some reason (maybe YOU guys can help me figure this out), the last 3 times while I was in our local store, my lower abdomen started churning and I had a sudden, painful, and urgent need to cut the cheese. Seriously! I don't think it's like extra walking or anything, because I've been out walking every time the sun is shining.

The first time it hit me, I squinched up my butt cheeks and made it five steps to the organic corner of the produce section (I was across the store from the bathroom and there was nobody around) and totally let fly before scurrying away.

I figured that if anything wilted, it could be blamed on the lack of preservatives or pesticides or veggie genetic engineering. Who knows---the last 3 out of 4 times I've bought organic veggies in a bag, I've found some kind of larvae in there noshing away. The best scenario would be that my natural gas suffocated them so the next person didn't get a live and wiggling surprise.

At least that's what I tell myself. ;-)

During the second visit to the store, the guys and I were standing in front of the Lean Pockets in the freezer section (which was fairly crowded with shoppers), and I was telling Big Kid---"the difference between Hot Pockets and Lean Pockets is the fat content, and no, I'm not going to buy any Hot Pockets, so if you avoid the nasty multi-grain ones, you're not going to find much of a difference in the taste. Pick one that you might eat already or not".

I'd just spent the last 15 minutes fending off loud and public whines from this 21-year-old who doesn't HAVE A JOB or contribute any way to the household, that ran along the lines of, "Why won't you buy me chocolate milk? I have a RIGHT to have chocolate milk if I want it! Why do YOU have to be so cheap?" or "Why can't you buy GOOD stuff like Fried Mozzarella Sticks?" or "You don't expect ME to eat GENERIC BRAND mandarin oranges/oatmeal/kidney beans/whatever do you? I'm not going to eat diet or generic crap! And why are you so CHEAP?" arrggghh

So we're standing in front of the Lean Pockets, he's still bitching and moaning, and I had sudden and massive cramps. The bathrooms were just up at the end of the aisle and over 1.

I took a step in the right direction, but that little solitary step unleashed the butt monkeys from hell. At that point, I figured that trying to rein them in would be futile and just let them run rampant. Prolly hit the Richter scale at about 7 out of 10. In noise, at least.

On to Plan B.

I turned to Big Kid in the middle of his "I'm not going to eat diet food, and why was I so damn cheap" rant and said loudly, "For God's sakes, if you have to fart that bad, can't you at least go outside? What in the heck is wrong with you?"

So while everybody in the freezer section was giving Big Kid the hairy eyeball I took the cart, and Little Guy and I ran like hell (with disgusted looks on our faces).

The 3rd time was just Little Guy and me. Big Kid was too embarrassed to show his face at our store after "his"--ahem--21-bun-salute. Luckily, when the cramps hit me, I was 10 feet from the bathroom. So I left Little Guy with the cart, locked myself in there and farted myself silly. Came out (no fan in there, so I left the door open to air it out) and got hit with another wave of cramps. Went back in and did it again.

Came out, and there was a lady waiting to use the facilities. Boy did I feel bad. Apologized to her in advance.
Since then, I'm sort of afraid to go back. I've been having Hubby drop by and pick stuff up. Is it some sort of psychological trained response like Pavlov's Dog? Any ideas?