last poops
Sunday, 8 June 2025 | 9:46 AM
Another constipated day.
Even if it sounds dull, doesn’t stop being FRUSTRATING
Saturday, 7 June 2025 | 2:35 PM
Another liquid shit came unexpected
Saturday, 7 June 2025 | 9:01 AM
Turds reached my anus, eventually.
I don’t understand just one fact, was everything liquid already? Or did it melt once reached the hole?
Saturday, 7 June 2025 | 8:01 AM
It’s been weeks now. Not working as it’s supposed to.
My bowels’ costipated
Friday, 6 June 2025 | 10:44 AM
Aaand another shiiit!
Totally liquid now
Friday, 6 June 2025 | 9:41 AM
A third shit. This one was almost liquid.
I feel a little better though
Friday, 6 June 2025 | 7:31 AM
Shit reprisal.
Still spicy, but the smell and color is more wooden-like
Friday, 6 June 2025 | 6:52 AM
First go. After two days of constipation…
Spicy
Thursday, 5 June 2025 | 10:30 AM
Uhm. Constipation the morning after eating pizza is my life conviction.
And my bowels bloat
Wednesday, 4 June 2025 | 12:20 PM
Just arrived at my friend’s house by the beach.
Am supposed to be glad and compliment him and the house….
But, you know, I have a little problem…
DIARRHOEA!
Sorry mate, my bowels have their own ways to cheer
Wednesday, 4 June 2025 | 6:53 AM
Pretty obvious ain’t it?
Days of diarrhoea, weakness and illness, today nothing to expel!
Tuesday, 3 June 2025 | 8:19 AM
Yet, no improvements. Just diarrhoea all along
Tuesday, 3 June 2025 | 7:05 AM
Morning, yet the same loose shit I’ve been having yesterday and the whole night.
Feel terrible
Keep burping yesterday’s lunch
Monday, 2 June 2025 | 8:28 PM
Back home.
Just liquid shit. Can’t move.
Feeling weak, feeling harsh
Pastoral Relief
Ah, the joys of a weekend with the mother-in-law — all those rich, greasy delights lovingly shoved down my throat like I hadn’t eaten in weeks. My gut, however, was less enthused.
Three hours into the drive home, it gave up. Spectacularly.
So here I am, squatting in a field somewhere off the A-road, trousers around my ankles, mid-diarrhoeic symphony. Each release a hot jazz solo, alternating between melting chocolate gelato and what I can only describe as digestive regret.
Liberating? Absolutely.
But the flies. Oh god, the flies. They’ve declared war on my arsehole, my thighs, my very soul. And the tall grass tickling my legs feels oddly flirtatious, as if Mother Nature herself were whispering, “You chose this, darling.”
Anyway, my boewls still hurt like hell.
I really do hope I make it home.