Striking Oil

A lesson on diet pills: Read the warning labels and take them seriously. Anything that says "You may get gas with oily spotting" is not a force to be reckoned with.

But let's get serious, people, when you are on a quest, nothing gets in your way. Every quest is a journey to self-discovery and I wasn't about to let some silly, over-exaggerated warning get in the way of my quest to hotness.

I was really doing well on my own. I landed my first job, going to the gym five days a week, counting my calories; I was getting rid of the post-college 50 pounds I managed to rack on. But as the weight loss started to dwindle, I sought a little help from a little pill called Alli.

Everything was going fine, and minus a few tummy rumbles that first week, there didn't seem to be much of a difference. Then I worked extended-time at school. A small group of students who needed a bit of extra help in reading. We were going over a passage when I felt the brewing of a fart. As a teacher, I have learned to master the masking of the fart sound, so I let her rip, silently of course.

That's when the smell crept and attacked like a stealth ninja. Suddenly, my students were gasping for air and explanation: "Miss, what is that SMELL! I think I'm going to die!" One actually ran to the garbage pail and vomited. Aghast and gagging, I realized it was coming from me.

I quickly got up to try and get another teacher to cover while I ran to the bathroom, and I saw the oil. Yes, like BP on the Gulf of Mexico, oil completely blasted through my pants and all over the chair. Shame and mortification doesn't even begin to cover it.

I got that other teacher and ran to the bathroom, but there was absolutely nothing I could do; I never thought to bring extra clothes with me to work....I mean teaching is tough, but bodily fluid spills never usually got involved. I had no choice but to fry in my own oil for the remainder of the day.

Walking the class out became another quest; how do I hide the reeking stink from me as well as my completely oil-stained pants? I lowered my school bag as low as it could possibly go and ran the streets of Brooklyn like a deep-fried cheetah. My friends, striking oil is not nearly as rich as it seems.

Needless to say, that was the end of my relationship with Alli. I'll take my extra pounds over losing my internal organs through my anus any day.