This conversation happened this afternoon.
My co-worker who we will call CA (because no one will figure it out) is cleaning her keyboard with one of those compressed-air cans.
Me: I need to do that too. My keyboard is gross.
(My keyboard is gross. I'm not lying.)
CA: Just fart on it. Fart through a straw.
Me: I'm pretty sure that would result in a much bigger, much more unpleasant mess in my keyboard.
CA: You can't do that, can you? That's right, you can't!
Me: I can't what? Fart?
CA: Yeah, because you got the [ostomy] bag. Right? I thought you couldn't fart anymore.
Me: I never got the bag. Didn't I tell you that? About a week before my surgery the doctor decided they could save my rectum so they just attached it to the small intestine. I swore I told you that.
CA: I didn't know. I thought you had the bag.
Other members of the Grey Carpet Area (hereby known as the GCA): Yeah, we knew.
Me: Yeah, no ostomy. Everything works about 90% the same as before.
CA: Oh jeez! I thought you had the other thing done, 'cause you always had that little red bag with you.
|This red bag. From my awesome friend Sammi. Because Sammi is awesome.|
Me:... that's my purse. That's why it's with me all the time. Sometimes I'm on my period and need a pad and sometimes I just want to put on some lipstick.
CA: Holy shit! You're kidding me!
Me: (grabs purse and opens it) See? No shit in here. Well, okay, there's a lot of shit in here. But no feces.
Me: That being said, if it ever does come down to an ostomy bag, I'd totally be into a Wonder Woman design.
(Fun Fact: These exist. Thanks for the link, SB!)
GCA: *hysterical laughter and smart ass comments.. including something along the lines of "Go for the Wonder Woman bag, because you don't wanna shit in a Gucci."*
CA: Oh my god. OH MY GOD. The other day, when you dropped the plant..!1 I was all worried because you left your bag on the floor next to all the dirt.. and you were nowhere near it. I was panicking thinking something horrible happened to you, because you weren't with your bag! That's why I picked it up and brushed it off and was all worried about getting it back to you!
(I had gone to get a broom. See footnote.)
Me: I thought you were just being nice!
At this point, I have tears running down my cheeks, I am laughing so hard. People are coming in from other departments to see what is going on and why we are laughing about pooh-bags and shitting in Gucci.
This must have been especially confusing to anyone who has joined our department since last January. I can kind of understand the confusion, because in all fairness, back when I was first diagnosed with colitis at the tender age of 18 and had the dreaded words "colostomy bag" uttered to me, I thought it would look kind of like a fanny pack. At this purse, with its shoulder strap, does kind of sit over my hip, where an ostomy bag might go.
It's been a while since I've laughed that hard. Cancer is bullshit, but poop jokes never get old.
1The other day, coming into work, I attempted to carry two large spider plants, my tote bag, my purse and a coffee into the building in one trip and succeeded in dumping one of the plants upside down on the floor. Considering I was carrying my travel mug in my cleavage, things could have gone much worse.