My goal of writing this post is expressing to readers why you shouldn't use the word "constipation" as a joke, and to enlighten the public about the horrors of constipation, starting with:
1. Everyone thinks that it's funny when they imagine someone making an angry face on a toilet seat, but that means that you haven't been that person. A lot of people experience constipation, and chances are that, every time you use the word incorrectly, there is someone that is secretly hurt, or embarrassed, or offended, but too ashamed to tell you why. They deny the fact that they ever had constipation, but secretly they're very affected.
2. Let me tell you MY story. When I was 7, I was told that I was allergic to fruit, and I couldn't eat it anymore. I was eating it all the time, and suddenly my diet was horribly restricted. I was sad and stopped eating fruit. I didn't realize that my fiber was declining. I started to get constipation. I got blood in my poop, and told my mom. She tried all kinds of unsuccessful things. It got worse. I got an anus fissure--a cut in my butt. It wouldn't go away, as it kept getting irritated. Eight years later, it's still there.
The pain was terrible. I would scream, thrashing on the toilet for ten or fifteen minutes, with my mother there trying to calm me down. I would cry, and afterwards I wouldn't be able to walk because of the pain. I would curl into the fetal position, though even THAT hurt, and I would lie there for a very long time. Finally, we found this thing that looked like, had the consistency of, and tasted like a kind of thick cooking oil. I would put it in my drinks, or sometimes plain in a cup, and I would drink it. Imagine eating raw egg--it was sort of like that, and I had to drink it every night. But the constipation stopped, so I didn't care anymore. I gladly drank it every night, and was grateful for it, even though it made me gag sometimes, and I felt disgusting afterwards.
Then, my mother found MiriLax. It's a kind of powder, and I would let it dissolve in grape juice and drink it every night--which I still do. I'm so grateful for it. I get scared to go even one night without it. If we go on vacation and I realize I forgot it, I begin to get very, very scared, and my parents have to buy me more or find something fiber-infested to get me to stop "uselessly obsessing." They don't realize the terrible fear that I used to have of pooping, how I'd hold it in even when it started to damage my intestines, how I began to get terrified of going to the bathroom, how I'd avoid it at all costs. How, even now, eight years later, those old memories still traumatize me.
Still think the word is funny, when to some people it means the darkness in their life, the ruining of their adolescence?