For hours I have been searching, digging to the very bowels of my brain, and for the life of me I cannot remember the last time I ever uttered or wrote those 5 words, or any variation of them.
In my world, there really is no such thing. If I think it, I say it (or type it). Poop at the dinner table? Sure! Full blown conversations about bloody vaginal birth in front of a group of males? Absolutely! I have no idea when my social conscience left the building, but I haven’t seen it in a very long time.
Most people who know anything about me know this fact; I think they’ve even come to expect it from me. “That’s the poop girl!” was certainly never how I thought i’d be referred to growing up, but i’ve learned to not only live with it, but run with it as well. It may not be how I think of myself, but I would guess that it would prepare people for my diarrhea of the mouth on all things disgusting and gag-worthy.
I always get a chuckle when i’m having a conversation with someone and the interject “well this might be TMI, but…” before telling me something they think might gross me out.
Who you think you’re talkin’ to??
I am the QUEEN of disgusting talk. There isn’t much left in this world that I haven’t said, or that you could ever say to me to offend me.
That being said, there’s always common sense to use there. If you let your husband shit in your mouth last night and you swirled it around like a fine wine and then spit it back into his- NO I DON’T WANT TO KNOW, and you should seek mental help! Those are the kinds of things you keep to yourself, I don’t care how good of friends you are with someone.
If you were holding your baby above your head playing airplane and they accidentally shit in your mouth? That doesn’t bother me. I can even handle your humiliating experience of the loudest queef known to man during sex, or even the fact that you’ve got sting ring and have been farting liquid fire for 24 hours straight.
Sometimes you just HAVE to have someone to talk to; generally I will be that person- though I appreciate the disclaimer!
The stories I have heard over the years might make some peoples stomachs turn, but usually I don’t even flinch.
When it comes to ME though? While I may be fluent in the language of poop, there are some things I keep to myself. Sex talk? I don’t know what it is, but I just don’t like talking about it. I can LISTEN to it, but I turn into an awkward tween when it comes to my own experiences- and you damn well better believe I won’t blog about it. I would never be able to look my family in the eyes again if I sat here and wrote sex stories, because they read this blog and them knowing about what goes on behind the bedroom door in my house might give me nightmares.
I haven’t shit my pants in a good 6 years (yes, do the math, that means the last time I did I was in my 20s), a story I still haven’t unleashed to the public to read, but I can tell you that if I did… it would take me a LONG time and a handful of drinks to be able to type. I do have some dignity left, and I am clinging onto it with my life!
I am all for humiliating myself to get a laugh, but I have to draw the line somewhere, don’t I?
I’m curious- what is taboo for you? What won’t you talk about? And what do you think is TMI?
Roads trips with Kids–Here’s what you REALLY need goo.gl/fb/yj96Mw
@selfmademummy I'd explode if I tried
"Motherhood-- the days are long but the years are short" Wrong. The days are long but the SLEEP is short.
If you enjoy working hard to prep a delicious meal only to be told "I'm definitely going to hate that" before it's served, you'll love kids.
it's what I like to call "Resting Mom Face" pic.twitter.com/DmFPcSIZjR
@Abby_NotDead My youngest looked like a cross eyed fish. Adorable now but it was a rough first few weeks 🤣
New babies look like potatoes 😂😂😂 pic.twitter.com/aCbnxRXKQq
When you told your kid they could help but now they're messing literally everything up pic.twitter.com/SgCzddoECB