Anal Leakage...

Being in the fitness industry means that I get a LOT of questions about health and nutrition. And what it boils down to is this: stop eating the entire sleeve of cookies and go do some cardio. There are no shortcuts. It’s called work and discipline.

Which brings me to the “miracle” drug that is Alli…and if you can’t sense my sarcastic tone, then I can’t help you.

Alli purportedly keeps your body from absorbing the fat found in foods, ergo allowing you to lose weight at a faster rate. Easy enough. You’re directed to take the Alli pills after each meal…the meals themselves should be low in fat and healthy. Here’s where it gets fun…because if you don’t follow a low fat diet, you’ll have some pretty neat side effect, such as:

“…oily spotting, loose stools, and more frequent stools that may be hard to control.”

Amazing. That there is enough of a reason to just avoid Alli altogether and spend a little more time on the treadmill…because I’ll keep my extra five pounds worth of fluff rather than accidentally pooping myself. It would seem like I have plenty of time in my old age to experience that.

Anyhoo, a friend of mine called me up the other day, nearly hysterical with laughter. When she had finally composed herself, she relayed this story…or, as I like to call it, a cautionary tale.

A friend of hers, we’ll call her Jane, had been struggling with her weight for some time and had recently just found the inner motivation to really do something about it. Jane, however, is really fond of short cuts and was wondering if there was some way to lose the weight AND keep her daily donut habit going. Enter Alli. She had seen it advertised on tv and thought “Awesome! I’ll bet I can keep eating crap and STILL lose weight!” (Dialog mine).

So off she trotted to her local drug store where she procured her box of Alli, anxious to start tearing off the pounds. And then she read the included literature. Let me summarize:

“YOU MUST, WHEN ON ALLI, NOT CONSUME YOUR USUAL HIGH FAT CRAP BECAUSE IT WILL GIVE YOU ANAL LEAKAGE. EAT SMART, DUMBASS.”

This caused Jane some consternation because not only was she unwilling to give up her daily donut, but she also preferred Mountain Dew to water and only had a passing acquaintance with vegetables.

“It can’t be THAT bad,” she reasoned “otherwise they wouldn’t put it out to the public!”

So she had her fast food for dinner, swallowed her Alli, and went to bed, dreaming of thin thighs and tight jeans.

Morning came, and Jane felt somewhat lethargic from a restless nights sleep, but washed down her donut with her coffee (and her next Alli pill) and went off to work, where she’s an administrative assistant. Thankfully, her boss was out for the day, so she could yawn her way through the morning without interruption.

Around 10am, she began to experience some mild stomach cramping which soon escalated to intestinal warfare. Thinking that something must have been wrong with her burger the night before, Jane tried to hold in the gas that was threatening her with internal implosion. This went on for a few hours, Jane trying to pass gas discreetly and silently, overwhelmed by her own stench and SO HAPPY that no one sat nearby to witness (or smell) her discomfort.

Around 12noon, Jane’s agony reached its zenith with a gas buildup so strong that she thought her pants button might pop off, rendering someone in the office blind. After some careful and creative shifting, she was able to pass the bubble (quietly, thankfully) and felt immediate relief. She happily went back to work, thinking that the worst of it was over.

Well, it wasn’t.

A half hour later, Jane was ready for lunch and got up to leave her cubical. Reaching behind her for her jacket, she looked down at her chair and was immediately paralyzed in horror. For there, on her seat, was a huge, brown stain.

She had shat herself.

Remember that oily spotting from above? Well, it would appear that Jane’s last gas pass had actually been somewhat solid, though slick enough in its consistency to slip out without her noticing it. Quickly realizing that her pants must have a similar stain on them, she tied her jacket around her waist and fled the office, driving home to shower and change, planning her next move. Should she move states? Change her name? Have gender reassignment surgery? All of this in a panic, because, who poops themselves at work? That damn Alli really DOESN’T mix with fat.

Coming to the conclusion that she could play this off, Jane returned to work, a plan forming in her head. Returning to her cube, she immediately called the custodian saying “I just got back from lunch and there is this awful stain on my chair…can you come see if you can get it out?...no, I don’t know what it is…it’s the strangest thing.” The janitor willingly came over and after much internal debate and obvious thought he turned to her and said “Well ma’am…it sure looks like some oily shit, but I’ll see what I can do to get it out.” Turning bright red, Jane whispered a thank you - he wheeled the chair away, and Jane went to her bosses office to retrieve his chair and use it for the afternoon.

The day passed without any further issues. Jane had a ceremonious tossing out of the Alli around 3pm as she ate her afternoon cookies and coffee, her love of Mint Milanos surpassing her need to fit into a pair of size 27 jeans. Around 5pm, she received a call from the janitor who, bless his heart, had been working on her chair for hours.

“Ma’am,” he said “I’ve been scrubbing at this here stain all afternoon, and try as I might, I can’t seem to get it out. It’s sure as shit a crazy one. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to order a new chair. Want me to toss this one out for you? It kind of smells.”

And so, my friends, avoid Alli. Eat your vegetables. Do your cardio. And here's to full bowel control!