The Orange Oil Demon

Ladies..ladies, ladies. You know how it goes; we have kids, our asses explode and immediately post birth, we hit the gym , cut out major food groups, pop pills or all of the above. That is, those of us with intiative and slow metabolism; this blog does not include the freaks of nature who walk out of the hospital in their regular prepreganancy sizes or you lazy bitches who lie and say you don't care how you look because you're mothers now. I digress. Perhaps y'all have heard bout the new over the counter drug out on the market that hit the shelves exactly two days ago: Alli.

Alli is the 60mg dose of the popular prescription drug that comes in 120 mg dose, Orlistat, aka Xenical. Now, Xenical is a drug that binds with lipases to prevent them from breaking down the fat that you eat which in effect cause about 1/3 of the fat you eat to get flushed out with your bowel movements. Sounds pretty simple and easy, right? Well, let me tell you about my recent adventures in orlistat land.

My friend tells me, "Dude, when I took it back when it was Xenical, I lost about 15 lbs in three weeks!" Being the lazy American I am, and the fact that I've been blessed with estrogen and all it's related reproductive crap that caused be to gain 15lbs in the last TWO FUCKING WEEKS, I decided to give it a shot, because I'm a lazy American like that. Did it occur to me to incorporate some excercise a la the good ol days? Sure, but if I actually exercised as much as I thought about it, I'd be fucking Cindy Crawford right now; and frankly, if I can eat whatever I want, not get off my fat, lazy ass and pop a pill instead, dude, I am so there! So I hightail said fat ass to Wal Mart and got some.

It says to take 1 three times a day with meals. But they are 60mg tabs, and my nursey spidey senses (aka my handy dandy drug guide) tells me the prescription dose is 120. Now, I suck at math, but I can multiply times two. This whole concept fits into my theory that if one works, more is better! This theory has proven correct on more than one occasion. For instance: one beer is good. 20 is better. Sex once a night is good, but 3 times ROCKS. The only time the if x amount works, than x to the 3rd power is better is proven wrong, it's with birthing kids; ain't no amount of drugs albeit good or bad to fix that, but that's a whole different blog. Again, I digress.
I am not even out of the parking lot and my friend and I are swallowing capsules and feeling all health concious. We're going to be slender smokin hot bitches yet. I suck down some water, trying to cut down on my carbs and all, and we go to lunch. I had a couple of margaritas (I passed on the Pepsi at Wal Mart...that is sacrifice people so fuck off) and some chicken quesadillas. Totally healthy choice,right? I go home, no problem. Take the doses again today, no problem.

I had a chunk of pizza for breakfast, totally nummy and a completely balanced meal. Think about it, the crust is your bread, the peperoni and sausage the protien, the onions the veggies, the tomato sauce the fruit...that's all the major food groups in one slice of pie!
On my way to work, I'm chugging a green tea, thanks to my new health concious mindset when it happened. I am jamming out to Lilly Allen (Everything seems to look as it shouldBut I wonder what goes on behind doorsA fella looking dapper, and he's sittin with a slapperThen I see it's a pimp and his crack whore...)

Tummy rumbling a bit, I set the green tea in the cupholder....(There was a little old lady, who was walking down the road She was struggling with bags from Tesco, There were people from the city having lunch in the parkI believe that is called al fresco,When a kid came along to offer a handBut before she had time to accept it, Hits her over the head, doesn't care if she's dead,Cause he's got all her jewellery and wallet...) tummy rumbles some more. IT"S GOOD! IT"S OK!

I keep driving a long, singing to my blaring stereo, "You might love me my friend, walkin round London Town, sun is in the sky oh why oh why would I want to be anywhere else...."
Anywhere else. Hmm. Anywhere else, hmm. THUD. I'm clenching my ass cheeks so tight I'dve broken Susan Somers' fucking thigh/butt master. Flash Gordon doesn't have anything on these glutes. Now I'm in a fight with my colon. I have nice leather seats. My colon says, "FUCK YOU! EJECT EJECT! DAMMIT CAP'N, I'M GIVIN HER ALL SHE'S GOT AND SHE'S GONNA BLOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I get to the parking lot, and my colon says, "Congratulations, Capn. I haven ejected our cargo, but if you don't get thee into a bathroom now, I'm going to ruin that pretty lace thong you're wearin." I do the clenched buttcheek walk all the way inside. My ass feels the burn between the isometric butt master and my colon giving the submarine dive sirin. I haven't had to make way to the bathroom that badly since the last time I ate at the Shoney's breakfast buffet...or Jack in the Box; each establishment gave my digestive tract the same reaction. I do the waddle run into my office, run to the bathroom, which, by the way, though I have an office, I do not have a private bathroom. I rip at my jeans trying to get them down fast enough, barely making it.

"HOUSTON! WE HAVE LIFT OFF!" It was one of those experiences wherein you should light a candle in order to be considerate, but should one try that, they'd probably blow the building up. The toilet paper looked like I'd just blotted all the excess grease off a double meat pepperoni pizza; in other words, I had that not so fresh feeling. When I was a kid, my grandma used to lecture me about not putting grease from the sausage down the drain because it would clog it up, so after an evening of making gourmet hamburger helper, I decided to pour the grease down the toilet...yeah, it was like that. Wouldn't you know grandma knew her shit because even though pouring the cooking grease down the toilet didn't clog it up like it would the sink drain, Xenical poo looks exactly the same, only it DOES clog up the toilet; it turns you into a three flush chump.

So, in relaying the wonders of the xenical experience to my officemates, who were the source of my trying this crap to begin with, I get the wise words of advice not to eat a cannister of slim jims while on Orlistat for the same reason. We have deamed it "The Orange Oil Plague." Oh, you may pretend to be grossed out and swear about the evils of diet drugs, but my bet is that 99% of you bitches who read this blog will run out and buy it to not only in an attempt skinny, but to cure constipation. When you come over here, stink up my bathroom and leave an orange oil ring within my toilet bowel, you're so busted. Yet another educational blog, I'll see you in the pharmacy aisle; I just had brats for dinner, so it's time for another dose. Catch you on the runway!