I’ve posted some of the many benefits allegedly attributed to the Anti Inflammatory Diet now sweeping our Island, and I’ve also mentioned some of my narrow minded resistance to it, despite having promised my wife I would give it my best shot. So far, the benefits have been somewhat understated so far, with a measly 4 pounds of weight loss and no apparent benefit to my well being, other than a reduction in the amount of ear ache I suffer on account of my acquiescence to the new regime.
However, there is one side affect that is not discussed in the local journals, or indeed on Ms Abascal’s web site.
The side affect I refer to is the sudden onset of projectile incontinence, which, as you can imagine, has some possibilities for embarrassment. The amount of fruit, nut, seed and vegetable fiber I am consuming is creating havoc in my digestion system. So far, I have managed to avoid shitting myself in public, through a careful strategy of staying very close to toilets and not travelling in the car for extended periods. If I said that it comes on very suddenly, I would be understating the urgency.
So far, from previous experience, I have less than 1 minute to get to an appropriate place, remove the necessary clothing, sit down and let go. Needless to say, if I miss time any of the actions mentioned above, or by some unfortunate circumstance find the toilet stall already occupied, I can’t bare to think of the possible consequences.
On Tuesday this week, while heading down to the beach with my son, I felt the warning signs starting to rumble. There are no “facilities” at this beach, and bugger all shelter to hide behind, so I was left with no other possibilities.
Wait for it, you are getting ahead of yourself here.
I ran towards the water, throwing my shirt and hat into the sand with just a touch of panic, and waded out into the bay to about waist depth, all the time thinking about the current drift and the direction of the potential fall out. At an appropriate place, if in fact that is what you could describe where about I was standing, I tried to undo my swim shorts, but a combination of cold fingers and tight knots conspired against me. With the strength only sheer panic can generate, I ripped the cord in two and lowered the remaining remnants just in time to avoid an even bigger disaster than the one unfolding.
Fortunately, vegetable matter disperses quite quickly, and the tide and current conveniently obliged by removing the evidence off shore
The revelers on the beach were totally unaware of the drama out in the water, until that is, my son who had been left in the dust, shouted out in as loud a voice as only a 6 year old can possibly muster, “Daddy, did you mess your pants?”
With one hand holding up my shorts, I waded ashore trying to make my exit from the water seem as normal as possible, and telling my son, in an equally loud voice, that daddy just needed to cool down.
I will start to reduce the fiber content of my intake this week, in an attempt to head off any further unfortunate episodes. In the mean time, if you see a middle aged man running towards you while standing in the line for the bathroom, give him PLENTY of room.