I am currently trying to make healthier choices in life.
So, drinking green tea in the afternoons seemed to be a brilliant idea.
Several days in a row I fired up a teapot, dropped two bags in the water and drank the brewed tea in lieu of my usual afternoon pot of coffee.
I learned, quite the hard way, that green tea can give you diarrhea when you drink a lot of it.
I spent a substantial amount of time in the bathroom last week.
They were worrisome bouts of bathroom adventures, too, i.e. the kind that sneaked up on me in the form of the urge to pass gas. But alas, it was very much NOT gas as I very rudely realized. I scooted/waddled to the bathroom in tears.
After that nasty experience, I did some research. I typed "Does green tea give you diarrhea" into Google. Actually, I didn't even need to type in the entire sentence because it has been Googled THAT MANY TIMES.
I took comfort in knowing there had been others. Others... who had been taken by surprise as I had been. I hoped they weren't in a public place when it happened.
If you start drinking a lot of green tea, please remember my little story and take heed.
I also learned this past week that although you may have had a specific size of underwear in your lingerie drawer purchased previous to a 50 pound weight gain, it may be advantageous to buy the next size up.
There is a reason that my tidy whities had holes in them. They were stretched and strained beyond any reasonable expectation for a budget six pack of cotton briefs.
My husband was standing in the lingerie section with me as I picked out the next pack that hopefully will last me for the NEXT six years.
I lucked out and the package I chose had two bonus pairs of panties. EIGHT pair for the price of six! SCORE! I threw them in my cart and they landed with a solid thud.
"I need new underwear," I said to my husband. He snorted and rolled his eyes. I guess that was an understatement.
Earlier that day, he had witnessed as my hand ripped through the waistband of my panties when I pulled them up.
He had shaken his head, sighed then turned away. The sight was most likely too pitiful ~ and unsexy ~ to behold.
Sometimes I feel in a way that the ill fitting, broken and ripped undergarments are sort of a martyr complex on my part.
"See? My panties are in shreds. But...alas...I will continue to wear them to let you know that I don't put myself first in this family."
But there is a point when the martyr thing becomes ridonkulous, and this point came this week. The life span on my undergarments had expired about two years ago, and it was necessary for me to do something about it.
My purchase was not extravagant, by any stretch of the imagination. But they'll do.