Sounds like the start of a joke, huh?
Well, we do have our own odd communal sense of humor — and propriety.
First, a little background:
- And most of us are comfortably in our middle-age (but we look — to each other — as if we are still campers).
- We all feel close to each other, regardless of the facts — many of us only recently met at reunions.
- Those of us who did know each other at camp now share each other’s food, drink, and menopausal medications.
- As we age, we need to add supplements to our foods, and those supplements vary.
And that closeness has its draw-backs.
Imagine one middle-age camper’s surprise upon learning that, after taking a gulp of another’s coffee, it was laced with the mother lode of Miralax. One camper’s constipation became another camper’s . . . . well, you know.
By lunchtime, the following conversation ensued:
“Hey, yo, [Constipated one], I am f^&*ing stinking up Lodge 2 because I can’t stop shitting! How much of that stuff do you need?”
“I need a lot because I have not gone in a while.“
“How constipated? So long, as in an enema with a vacuum?” I offered (not so helpfully).
“Let’s ask the doctors here. You need help. And I need to stop friggin’ shitting my brains out!”
“Oh, gross, we cannot talk about this about lunch.“
Ha. Of course we can. Those assembled asked about our friend’s colon, intestines and just how much Miralax she takes (with every meal and then some). I renewed my suggestion about a vacuum.
Thereafter at every meal, we discussed the progress of “things”. The bizarro nature and the hilarity of it all got people laughing so hard, that yet another camper peed in her pants.
“I’ve had THREE children. These things happen!“
And no one thought otherwise.
Next installment: Twelve 50 year-old women are talking about their children’s sex lives. . . .
