My inspiration for this post came from my dear, longtime blogging friend, Debbie @ Musings by an ND Domer's Mom, who is not only a gifted...
Over the past five years, I’ve shared a lot of TMI on this blog, but it occurred to me last weekend that I left some stuff out.
I just want to warn you that if TMI makes you cringe and turn away from your computer monitor, you might wanna put both hands in front of your eyes and look through the cracks of your fingers while reading this post, because it’s TMI at its BLUNTNESS.
Are you ready?
Okay, here goes…..
1) I poop faster than anyone I know.
I realize that many people consider taking a poop a monumental and time-consuming event. But for me, I poop at least twice a day (sometimes three), and can do it faster than Houdini could say, “Hocus-Pocus.”
When I’m ready to go, I’m ready to GO.
(I don’t think I’ve ever had a constipated day in my entire life)
I remember on Sunday mornings after my family would have our after-church breakfast (eggs, bacon, scrapple, and toast), my father would traditionally take the Sunday edition of the Philadelphia Inquire into the bathroom with him, and stay there for almost an HOUR reading it from front to back, while doing a poopie. Well, I certainly didn’t take after my father when it came to that, no. I poop so fast that I can’t get beyond the first two sentences in the first chapter of the book that I’ve had in my bathroom for the past year, before yelling, “BOMBS AWAY!”
And after a YEAR, I still don’t even know what that book is about.
2) I can’t eat a banana without thinking of the word fellatio.
Yes, you heard me right! There is something about eating a banana that always makes me feel like Linda Lovelace in the movie, “Deep Throat.” I’m sorry, but there is no way to eat a banana, other than breaking off pieces and placing them into your mouth without it resembling PORN. Whenever I bring a banana to work to eat as a snack, I crouch down on the floor behind one of the cosmetic counters, so that no one can see me ‘going down.’
3) I manscape my chest hair.
I know in the past, I’ve confessed to shaving my kiwis, but I also manscape my chest every month. I don’t shave or wax; I use an electric clipper with a guard to prune my overly abundant hairy pecs. Because if I didn’t, I would need a flashlight and a pitchfork to FIND my pecs. I have so much hair on my chest that it stands out about three feet from my body. If I ever fell out of a 50-story window, my only hope is to land on my chest because it would cushion the blow like an air bag and probably save my life.
4) I wear bronzing powder.
Look, don’t laugh, because REAL men eat quiche and wear bronzing powder. Well, at least SOME real men do. Like me and Boy George. In fact, I’ve been wearing bronzer for YEARS. Now I don’t wear mascara, lipstick or eyeliner, but do like a bit of color on my face to give a subtle and healthy glow. The only problem is that I have to watch HOW MUCH I put on. There have been some days when I got a little heavy-handed, and ended up looking like a bronzed Elizabeth Taylor in the movie, "Cleopatra."
So, how was that for some blunt TMI?
Okay, you can uncover your eyes now…..
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