Hope floats but poop does not.

A long time ago in a land far, far away I never seemed to care about what went into my body or what came out of my body.

An article caught my eye while waiting in line at the grocery store check-out stand.

"Judge your health by your poop."

WTF? Of course, I have to grab said magazine and pay quickly for it while I stuff it into my purse and rush out to my van and quickly peruse my 'prize' article.

According to this article, I am not healthy. My poop does not float.

My poop hits the sides of the bowl like a handful of oil from the tar-sands in Alberta. Not a very 'purdy' sight indeed.

Optimum poop floats on the surface like a lazy muscovy duck in the spring. Mine slides down the bowl like hot, boiling lava.

Ever since I dated a radiation machine (rad-o-meister) my poop nor my body has not quite been the same.

There is nothing like getting about 6000gy worth of radiation to the ol' a-hole to forever render me 'poop' not-so-good.

I continued reading the article to find out that not only is floating a factor but color is as well.

Your poop should be the color of a mahogany couch. You know that warm, brown color that speaks of wealth and confidence.

Upon examination of mine this morning, I could not draw comparison to any couch in my house. I quickly realized that mine is more the color of 'burnt engine oil' in an old car.

Why is this?

I eat good food and drink good wine. :)

I went to speak to Dr. Google and starting putting some pieces of the puzzle together.

Dating a radiaiton machine for quite a few weeks leaves your bowels in a pretty 'fucked up' state of mind. For how long, I do not know.

If the people of Haroshima had radiation after effects for decades, chances are that I will as well.

Upon waking up first thing, I have to run to the washroom. Not a dawdling kind of 'trying' to find your way 1/2 asleep kind of run. This is more of a 'frantic' jaunt as I have lost a bit of 'control' first thing in the morning.

Upon waking, the stop-watch goes off and I've got about say 30 seconds to get there and that's about it.

And of course, after its all done, there is the 'inspection' phase where you're looking for blood or some other 'sign' that Hank (name for my cancer) has decided to come back into my ass for another visit.

Nope, no sign of cancer. All I find is a dollop of black goo that would make the beverly hillbillies proud if it was on their front lawn and not in my toilet bowl.

Somedays, it is worse than other days.

There is nothing like a big, juicy 8 oz. blue steak to wreck havoc on my poop factor.

Within 2 hours of eating said meal, its coming out the other end, Jim, in a stream you'd think was freaking water and not poop.

Its almost as if my body becomes a machine taking solid meat and turning it into 'au jus' in the blink of an eye.

Do I stop eating meat? Nope. I love meat and will not give it up. Ditto for my beverage of choice, shiraz wine.

My poop loses according to the article. Mine does not float nor does it have any evidence of EVER becoming the type to maybe float once in a while. Lazy-ass freaking poop.

Mine sinks like a freaking rock.

Do I care really? hmmm...Well it would be nice to say that my poop floats so therefore I am healthy.

Actually, I don't really give a shit.