2 hours ago, it had been a twinge in my belly that told me, "Hey, you should probably shit right now."
Being the wise person I was, I informed my father of the predicament.
"Dad, please can we stop at the next rest station? I really need to use the toilet."
He had nodded. My siblings had rolled their eyes at me. Taking rest stops would only add more time to our seven hours road trip. I had been embarrassed so I didn't explain.
However, at this point I was dying. The feel of liquified fire within me; the cramping of my insides with every bump the car went over; it all came with the realization that I had an upset stomach and would spew my insides from below in the car if we didn't stop right now.
We were in the middle of freaking nowhere though. Only dried brown grasses lined the road in every direction. If I wanted to purge, I'd have to do out there. Pride wouldn't let me.
So, I expressed my discomforts again and curled in on myself, trying to breathe through the pain.
After thirty minutes of absolute pain, I grabbed my pride with both hands and flung it out of the window. Shit would not be the cause of death on my death certificate.
I begged Dad to stop the car, with threats of shitting right there and then. My hysteria was hilarious in its content but tragic for I was close to tears.
He obliged and I flew out of the car, barely waiting to grab tissues and water. Instant relief came over me as I squatted by the side of the road.
It was a close call, but I'd live to see another shit.