sharting

Today's post is brought to you by the word "shart" and the number 3.
No, really. If you're extra-squeamish today's post is about poop and offers wayyyy too much information. But that's the beauty of my blog. I can write about whatever I want.

Moving right along, today marks the day in my life when I actually sharted. I had always thought that it was a juvenile, fictitious comical term and no one actually did it. Because, come on, as adults we can usually distinguish the urge to fart from the urge to poop.

Usually.

I was lying in bed this morning half-awake when I farted. Then I rolled over and I thought, "Hm, that feels wet." Then, "Could I have possibly just shit myself??"

I got up, went to the bathroom, and sure enough. For some reason I thought it was hilarious that I actually just sharted. It makes sense, I guess. The mexican food that I had yesterday was bothering me last night. And the result: sharting.

So, a word to the wise. Sharting CAN happen, when you least expect it. It could happen to you. So think twice before the next time you let one rip. Especially after mexican food.

Ashley, I know you're busting a gut over this one.