You may not realize this, but it’s been two and half years since you saved my life with a single phone call.
In June of 2012 I began experiencing episodes of shortness of breath, difficulty swallowing, and severe reflux. I also started having “attacks” in the middle of the night in which I would wake up feeling like my body was on fire, choking and gasping for breath with my heart pounding and my bowels contracting. Every time it happened I would reach over and touch my husband and whisper goodbye because I was sure I was about to die.
And now I can sing like Adele.
I’m serious, you guys.
I sound EXACTLY like her.
Remember when I was calmly sitting on the couch enjoying some scrumptious chocolate chip cookies – and I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe and I thought I was having a panic attack?
Me and OtherMe had an argument yesterday.
For those of you who haven’t been formally introduced, OtherMe is a nasty, taxing little vixen who drinks too much, swears too much, never does the dishes, and speaks four languages: snarky, sarcastic, sardonic, and all-out-bitch.
Since the U.S. publication of Everyone Poops in 1993,
it has become a widely known fact that indeed, everyone poops.
(For years I thought I was the only one.)
The fact that is NOT widely known is that men do it more.
A LOT more.