Expelling a Demon Can Be Painful


This week I expelled a demon.  No really.  I mean I am pretty sure that is what happened.  It for sure felt that way and might not have been a real demon.  But you don’t know.  Don’t judge me for thinking that I had a demon living inside me after what happened.  It really could have been.  I have watched enough Supernatural to know that expelling a demon can be quite a messy business. But, what I didn’t know was how painful it can be.

It started out with me waking up and feeling rotten.  I mean super rotten.  My stomach hurt and I was trying to sleep for work, but the pain would not stop.  I laid in bed, wondering what the heck was wrong.  I do have some trouble with my gut in general, but this felt out of the norm, even for me.  Then the abdominal cramps and nausea hit me.  Ugh.  The worst.  Let me clue you in on something.  There are two things I hate the most.  Sore throats and nausea.  Sore throats…what the heck are those and why.  Why does your throat have to sometimes feel like you ae swallowing razor blades every time you swallow?  Never mind trying to drink or eat, or even sometimes talk.  There is no need for that.  It’s not like you can sit there and not swallow your own saliva at all.  I mean, I guess you could and wear a bib and just let it all drool out onto yourself, but that might be frowned upon in public.  Or you could pretend you are a loose mental patient and just wander around drooling and making noises since you can’t talk due to the razor blades that are in your throat.  Totally doable.  As you can tell, I really do not have a very good tolerance to a sore throat and even less for nausea.  I can deal with abdominal cramping because I would much rather poop up a storm than vomit.  Vomiting is the worst.  So there I was, trying to figure out what the heck I ate and then realizing I hadn’t eaten anything since like 4pm the day before.  That was 16 hours prior to all of this starting.  There is no way this is food poisoning.  Food poisoning, for those who do not know, has about a three-hour window where you get sick.  I was trying to figure out if this was an ulcer attack when I had to jump up and run for the restroom.  Luckily, it didn’t start out as vomiting, if you catch my drift.  I thought to myself  “while this is not pleasant and feels like fire water coming out of my butthole, I can handle this.  This is ok. I can pee fire water out of my butt.”  I seriously would so much rather have fiery water coming out of me with cramping, then hugging the toilet bowl and vomit.  I could take something to stop it and still work.  All right I got this.

I got back in bed and took something to help with the cramping and such and fell back asleep for about an hour.  Then, the obvious creature dwelling inside me decided to stir.  Holy crap.  It was that moment when you can’t decide what is going to be worse, waiting for the nausea to pass or just vomit.  I decided to try to wait it out and took another form of medication called Zofran to help.  20 minutes later, everything took a horrible awful turn.  I ended up running for the toilet, grabbing a hair clip to pull back my hair and just in time getting my necklace off.  If you have long hair, you get it.  Nothing worse than your hair ending up in the toilet bowl while you are dying.  As I knelt there on my bathroom floor emptying my stomach contents in a violent fashion, the wort decision of my life happened.  Can I stop vomiting long enough to get my butt on the toilet? Nope.  Totally did not happen.  It was like that scene in the movie Bridesmaids where the bride with uncontrollable diarrhea says “It’s happening.  I am shitting in the street.”  So that happened.  Worst thing ever to have absolutely no control over what is coming out of either end of your body at the same time.  Humiliating.  This went on for hours. I didn’t even fell like I could leave the bathroom. Work was out of the question.  In fact, I decided to lay on my bathroom floor, sans chonies, because why bother at that point if it was going to come out both ends at the same time. I pulled a towel down to lay on and wondered what the heck I did to deserve this.  Then it hit me.  This is a demon.  I am expelling a demon.  Has to be it.  There is no other explanation.  Totally what it is. Has to be.  A demon.  Yup.

Now, you have to realize, at this point I am delirious with pain, dehydration and have taken even more anti nausea medication to try to stop all of this without any success.  It really does have to be a demon.  I looked around trying to see if maybe my Bubby or BFF had snuck into my bathroom or bedroom and drawn a Devil’s trap there to help me out.  Because maybe I didn’t realize I was possessed by a demon and they did.  Maybe the Winchester brothers were going to come any moment now and there I am, laying on my bathroom floor with no panties on, covered in a sheen of sweat, smelling like death I am sure.  Oh that would be so unfortunate.  No one needs to see that, least of all Dean Winchester **swoon**.  That would be so my luck.  Fat Girl humiliation at it’s finest.  I wondered if I even had enough energy to go grab some salt to swallow to try to expel the demon even faster, but opted to just go to bed instead.

12 hours later.  No.  Really.  12 hours this lasted, the expelling of the demon that was in me.  Finally, it left.  Exiting me, leaving my soul intact (or at least I hope so), but without the big plume of black smoke they always show on Supernatural, to find another body to invade.  I woke the next morning and went to get out of bed and realized there was a lasting effect to throwing yourself on the floor and hugging the toilet bowel for so long when you are older.  My back was out.  Are you freaking kidding me?  This had never happened before.  The fiery pain of the diarrhea had now been replaced by shooting pains into my ass in the form of sciatica flare up.  I hated this demon.  My ass was on fire in such a worst way and I could barely stand without pain.  Awesome.  So glad this was now my life.  Stupid demon.  Stupid getting old.  Is this now what is going to happen to me every time I have to vomit violently for hours?  My back is going to go out?  What did I do to deserve this?  Great. So now, after expelling the demon that was living inside me, I ahve back pain.  Thank goodness for pain medication, a tens unit, lidocaine patches and a visit with my massage therapist in a few days.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  Oh my goodness, I felt like I was going to die for 12 hours but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl who actually threw my back out violently expelling a demon and wondering if the Winchester brothers were going to witness my humiliation Running.  The experiment continues…

Fat Girl Olympics


I have been all consumed with my love of the Olympics since they started.  It amazes me that these athletes can accomplish the things that they do with their bodies.  I wish I had that dedication and will power.  Oh wait.  I do…to eating.  In thinking about this, however, I decided there are some categories of Fat Girl Olympics that I would probably win a gold medal in.  We all have to have goals, right?

  • Fat Girl Gymnastics.  We all know that I participate in this event at least once a week.  Although getting somebody to judge me shaving my girly parts and the gymnastic moves I use to do so might be a little tricky.  I mean, I don’t think there is room for more than two of us in my shower and it might get embarrassing for the judges.  We all no I have no modesty so I can’t see it being embarrassing for me.  I wonder if I would get artistic points for the way I have to move to actually clear out the jungle down there.  If the judges were to stand and look over the shower that would be like creepers.  And scary.  I might look up and screech like a little girl thinking I was in the shower scene of Psycho, slip, get wrapped up in the curtain and fall with nothing short of Fat Girl grace onto the floor.  Would I get more points for this move?  Would it be considered a difficult routine?  If so, then I would definitely get a gold medal.
  • Couch Napping.  I am also a gold medal contender in this sport.  I just did a warm up today actually.  I do think I was in very good place the other day after work when I took a marathon 4 hour nap on the couch without even moving from the same position.  I had good form the entire time and I am sure I went longer and farther than most can in the same position.  That should for sure be considered for a gold medal. Seriously.
  • Avoiding Chub Rub.  This is definitely a category I have some serious dedication to and really could medal in.  I take all sorts of precautions to avoid this.  As a Fat Girl, this can be very consuming and again I say if you have never had to try to prevent this, then you are NOT fat.  I just do not enjoy my skin chafing off and leaving big blisters in its place when I am trying to walk.  Doing the Chub Rub avoidance walk could also be a sport.  This takes some serious practice if your shorts are not long enough to make sure that no one notices you are trying to avoid a vaginal wedgie.  So not attractive.  Who wants to be seen picking their shorts out of their va-jay-jay?  Ever seen someone do it and wonder what she is fishing for and why she has her hands in her cha-cha in public only to realize her shorts were not supposed to be that short once she pulled out the offensive fabric?  That, my friends, takes some serious talent.  And guts.  And let’s not even go into the fact that her vagina swallowed THAT much fabric. Pretty sure that might have a gag factor to it.  Long shorts are the key to avoiding the dreaded Chub Rub  I tell you.  Although my niece’s BF would definitely take a medal in avoiding taint rub.  He did master the puffy white cloud of baby powder as he walked.  Pretty awesome stuff there.
  • Fat Girl Happy Dance Of Joy.  This is for sure the category I would take the highest score in.  I have perfected this one.  I actually have been doing it every week since me and my scale made up over our disagreement that the numbers were moving the wrong way.  Since then, the scale has agreed that the numbers need to only move lower and I have been rewarded with a 6 pound loss in 6 weeks.  This certainly deserves a Fat Girl dance of joy.  In fact, let me practice one more time for you with my clothes on this time.  I would have to say that this Olympic category would have to have a clothing optional choice as I usually do it in my bathroom right after weighing in, so we all know I have nothing on.  Just make sure your curtains are closed if you choose to do it outside your bathroom.  I speak from experience here.

Another thing to celebrate since I last wrote besides my Olympic training is that fact that I was interviewed by a real published author and she put it on her blog.  Seems others find me as funny as I find myself.  I mean, I know I am awesome, but it is nice to hear that others enjoy the trials and tribulations of a Fat Girl.  You can read the interview and see for yourself:  http://swellsbennett.blogspot.com/2012/07/apropos-of-nothing-kristann-monaghan.html

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I instead decided that I would train for a gold medal Fat Girl style.  I am fat girl warming up for another try at that couch napping medal running.  The experiment continues…..

When The Stoob Gets In The Way Or How To Make A New Type Of Shadow Puppet


The other night after my ransacking the cupboards failed to turn up any chocolate or Skittles and I went to go “get a fish” (this makes me giggle and if you have never watched Parking Wars you should…thanks for the reminder Lydia!), I decided to get off the life sucking couch and do a weight loss yoga video.  I thought to myself “It can’t be that bad.  It is just yoga. Plus a little stretching before bed will feel good.”  First of all, did I mention this is a Biggest Loser video with Bob?  And secondly, did you see that the title is Weight Loss Yoga?  Stupid fat girl mistake.

See how deceitful the cover is with Bob looking all peaceful. It lures you into a false sense of security before you realize the torture

Pretty sure Bob’s smiling face on the cover is hiding the amount of pain I soon found myself in.  Having only done yoga a few times before, I had no idea that his version of Yoga would soon send my quads into quivering pools of jello leaving me wondering if I could even move.  Then the troubles began.  First, you want me to put my foot where?  From downward dog to in between my hands?  Excuse me?   How I put my foot where the sun don’t shine on you?  That might be easier!  Does Bob not realize I am a fat girl and cannot bend that way?  Ok Ok….I will give it a go.  Huh.  Something is blocking my leg from moving that way.  Oh forget it, I will just move on to the next pose and figure it out later.  Maybe my hips just aren’t that flexible.  Next side.  Same thing.  WTF?  What is getting in my way?  Moving on to later when I am stretching to the side….seriously what is that?  It suddenly dawns on me.  The stoob.  The stoob is in the way.  I look down and am first off glad this fat girl is not in a class where everyone can see that my stoob is now poking out in all sorts of unflattering ways for all to see.  In fact, I had now discovered a new way to make shadow puppets on the wall by bending certain ways with my stoob.  The way the lighting is in my living room definitely cast a fat girl shadow on the wall and I could make all sorts of interesting shapes out of my stoob that was poking its whiteness out of my shirt as I hung upside now.  Pretty sure I made a giraffe, an elephant and even a rhino with my stoob.  It was pretty amusing, entertaining and distracting as I let Deceitful Bob torture me.  I decided then to make shadow continents with my stoob.  Even better because I am pretty sure I created Africa, Asia and possibly Australia (maybe even with a kangaroo or two).    Maybe next time I will try countries.  It would be awesome if I could create the former U.S.S.R. with my stoob.  Hmmmm….pretty sure that is a challenge I will have to take on!

I am certain I can create this with my stoob. I am THAT talented

But I did complete the video, legs quivering and all and attempted to take my fat girl self to the shower afterwards and discovered lifting my legs to step into the tub was the challenge after the workout. I have never felt like I needed one of those walk into showers in my life as I did then.  You know the ones…the ones that you see late at night on the info-mercials?  I could be a model for the fat girl version instead of the old people version.  It might sell  a lot of these tubs, especially if they let me do stoob shadow puppetry in the commercial.

Picture me doing stoob shadow puppetry….you know you would buy one

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did discover a new talent as I did yoga and have given myself a challenge to create the U.S.S.R. next time….maybe even all of the little countries in it with the fat rolls of the stoob, an even bigger challenge, but I didn’t die.  I am fat girl who has mastered stoob shadow puppetry and found a new calling to advertise walk in tubs running.  The experiment continues….