Having orifices can be a real pain in the arse sometimes, as well as the mouth and vagina, apparently.
One Reddit user going by ‘gettingmystuffdone’ told a cautionary tale involving a chocolate bar, the gym and her orifices.
The young Australian Redditor had finished her university work so decided to treat herself with a massive bar of chocolate.
She then decided to go to the gym – so far so good, but she hit the cardio a bit too hard:
It was a 500m rowing sprint alternating with your partner. Your rest is your partners row time and vice versa, repeat x 4. Luckily enough, I see one of my friends at the gym! So we strap on our stationary rowing machine Velcro booties and get down to work.
Now, I love the gym. I do. I go all the time. But the thing is, I don’t love cardio. In general, I kind of avoid it. But I am hella strong. So as I row the first 500m sprint I see I am easily maintaining a 1:35 split. What the hell? Somewhere inside my mind I know this is a bad idea. It’s too fast! I’m going too hard! I will pay for this! But I shut that part of my brain up and admire my glorious power gains. Dear God. I am amazing at rowing! Surely some handsome gym goer will see me and ‘mire. But the next sprint is less glorious. 1:50 split time. And the third? 2:15. I don’t even do the fourth. I feel fucking horrible. I feel terrible.
Oh dear. What happened next?
I’m sweaty and dizzy and most of all I am so nauseous. So incredibly nauseous. I need to get out of here. I grab my bottle of water and leave the gym, collapsing in the shade of the single tree in the gym carpark. But nothing is comfortable. My abdomen has this weird clenching pain, my throat keeps getting bile, the lactic acid in my quads is leaving me with a painful type of pump. I am literally lying on the ground moaning. I’m beyond caring. People walk past me to enter the gym and yeah, they’re looking at me, but I’m past that. I no longer care. I dry retch in to the garden bed and bring up some chocolatey bile.Advertisement
Jesus. But that’s it right? Wrong…
After 15 minutes of clutching my stomach, heart burn and general feeling like shit I decide I’m ready to drive home. God, what a nightmare. I spend the whole time driving one handed as I use the other hand to tear my compression pants away from my stomach. I’m torn between driving fast to get home quicker and driving slow because I can’t concentrate on the fucking road I am still in so much stomach pain. But then… with a gurgle of air in my stomach… Oh god. I know what the problem is. I’m not going to throw up anymore… it’s going to come out the other side. My body is rejecting everything in my stomach. I’m going to have diarrhea. So I drive quickly.
Finally, I park my car and limp with the tightest of tight clenched butt cheeks to the bathroom and just… let it rip. It’s like pissing from butthole. It’s terrible.
But her body wasn’t done there:
I rest my head in my hands and just pray this experience will end soon. But, looking down, I see that my underwear is ruined. Sometime between getting changed for the gym and getting home I have gotten my period. And not just ‘aw hey sup girl thought id come for a visit do you mind if I just quietly put my stuff down here?’ instead it’s like ‘I AM AVENGING THE DEATH OF THE BABY YOU REFUSE TO CONCEIVE. THIS IS YOUR PUNISHMENT AND DOOM.’
For six minutes of cardio I literally excreted product from every orifice.
So there you go, next time you decide to go to the gym, don’t eat a massive block of chocolate beforehand.