Because desk jobs can suck major wang, but they don't have to!
There comes a time in one's life when you realize that dignity is just a word, and that it doesn't really matter. I think I may have realized that the first time I had to do a wee behind a car on the motorway, or maybe when I lost my virginity and then spent the hour after lying in the wet patch, helping the guy compose text messages to his ex-girlfriend telling her he still loved her. That was nice.
I knew that I DEFINITELY didn't have any dignity left the first time I had a large camera inserted into my bumhole whilst under sedation -- I didn't even care.
The joys of having an illness where you have to talk about your toilet habits quite a lot to perfect strangers means that embarrassment is a thing of the past. I have no problem discussing how many times I go to the toilet, what happened while I was in there, whether I have wind.
I am quite regularly walking around the shops on the phone to my Mum when she'll casually ask me "So how many times have you been today?" No big deal. As long as I'm not making the other person in the conversation uncomfortable, then it's all good.
My colleagues are also on full working knowledge of what's going on in my body on a day-to-day basis. The tablets that make me need to wee all the time put paid to any last vestige of mystery I may have had (I didn't have any). It's all cool.
AND SO. I returned home from my Hen Weekend (I think you call them Bachelorette's in the US? Long story short, 16 girls, a Butler in the Buff, loads of booze, not much sleep) in Edinburgh, Scotland (very nice, you should go, loads of good fudge) this weekend feeling sleep deprived and slightly dirty.
I let myself into the flat and was excited to see at my feet a thickly stuffed padded envelope.
"What could this be?" I thought to myself. "Hopefully a load of bath products for review! Maybe even a nail polish or two! MAYBE SOME SWEETS!"
I ripped open the envelope, stuffing flying around the room as though it were snowing. Again. I reached into the envelope, full of glee -- hoping to feel the cool glass of a bottle of polish, or catch a whiff of some kind of sugary snack. I pulled out industrial strength laxatives.
Such joys! My colonoscopy appointment has come through!
A colonoscopy, for those who are lucky enough to not know what it is, is the endoscopic examination of the bowel using a fiber optic camera on a flexible tube, which is popped up your bum while you're under sedation. It gives the doctors a chance to see what's going on in there, and also means if they see any little polyps or need to take a biopsy, they can.
The good thing about being sedated is that you have no idea what's going on (thankfully) and come round a while later feeling a bit sorry for yourself but everyone's really nice to you and buys you presents! Yay!
The main thing I'm dreading, though, is that for TWO DAYS prior, not one day, TWO DAYS, I am nil by mouth. NIL. Well, nil except for clear liquids. That's TWO DAYS, PEOPLE. I will last be able to eat on the evening of Wednesday the 24th of April, and I won't eat again until the evening of Friday the 26th. I know people often do shit like that just for fun, or for fasting or whatever but I cannot stress to you enough quite how much I am not looking forward to this.
I am already imagining the clawing hunger, the weakness and the hallucinations of dim sum and roast chicken and chocolate bars and CAKE. I am going to be a NIGHTMARE. God. Chris had probably better move out, I'm going to be so full of rage.
To try and distract myself from the whole not eating thing, I've decided to concentrate on making my bum look really nice so that when the doctor spreads apart the cheeks and lovingly inserts a tube right up where the sun will never shine, he or she might think, "Well, isn't that a nice bum. I wish mine was as glowy and smooth as that."
I've started mega-scrubbing in the shower now so that all the winter skin that's been in jeans for the past EIGHT MONTHS (WTF, weather?) is getting sloughed off down the drain. I normally exfoliate my face, shoulders, arms and chest areas but I'm not being lazy now that there's going to be potentially a room full of people looking at my arse.
I've been using and loving the Champneys Distant Shores Body Scrub, which is a sugar-based scrub with grapefruit, lemon and orange peel oils, mango and passion fruit extracts and basically smells like I imagine Hawaii to smell. I've actually been scrubbing my thighs too which I never do as I am bloody lazy. Glowy!
After all the mega-scrubbing, I've been slapping on tons of moisturizer onto my bountiful cheeks (this one, from Pacifica, it's gorgeous) and really working it in.
I like to do this in front of the mirror and imagine I'm doing it because I'm about to get naked on camera, and not have a camera IN me. I think on the day I might use a moisturizer that incorporates some shimmer, just because I can. Shimmery!
I am considering getting my bum waxed. Have you ever done it? Is it more painful than getting your Lady-V done (sorry everyone, I know you hate it when I name it)?
Nah, can't be faffed with that. I like to jiggle, it's fine.
Got any top tips on how to deal with unbearable hunger and the rage that goes hand in hand with it? Got any good clear liquid recipes? Also, any other tips on how to make my arse look fabulous? Oh, and don't forget to tell me what getting your bum'ole waxed is like!
Scrubbing my pillows of fun on Twitter: @Natalie_KateM.