TIFU by eating a buttload of violet candy, didn't research ingredients well enough, lost a bunch of weight, and then paid for it...in a buttload.

So, here's the thing. I may or may not have a slight to moderate addiction to these delicious violet mint candies. (I'm choosing not to give away the name of the maker of these candies in an effort to protect the small company. I won't sully their reputation because I sullied my toilet.)

I recently found these succulent fragrant treats again after trying them years ago on a whim. They are the perfect blend of strong fragrance and chalky texture. I am enthralled with them. Or...I was.

I forgot all about them until that first fateful day, about 4 or 5 weeks ago, while browsing on Amazon for nostalgic candies.

Fuck up 1: I found the same brand of violet candies and was very excited to have them again. I ate all four packages of 15 mints each (60 mints total) in an embarrassingly short time. I started having some minor poopy issues here and there, but chalked it up to basic bacteria and subsequently forgot about them. I even went to so far as to passively blame by boyfriend by asking him if our dinners were giving him issues too. (He has been picking up a lot of the slack in the cooking department since I got a second job. Bless him.)

Fuck up 2: Seeing how I needed to refuel my latest addiction, I went directly to the manufacturer's website and...you guessed it...ordered 2 WHOLE BOXES of mints. This totals to 24 packages of 15 mints a piece. Remember this for later.

-Fuck up 2.0: Almost a moment of clarity- Something told me look up the ingredients of the mints, just for shits (lol) and giggles. I briefly read something about "magnesium stearate", but the article had too much of that darn fancy science mumbo jumbo. So, I went on with my life, or...what was to become of it, my careless days of yore. I should have trusted my gut...literally. I've read that animals have basic instincts of impending doom, like a signal of their own death. If only I knew my impending doom would result in the lament of my toilet. My triumph turned to tragedy. My seemingly harmless addiction leading me into a dark bathroom of despair.

Third and final fuck up, or, "The Violet Flower Enrapture and Evacuation of the Bowels": Since the delivery date of my precious violet goldmine, I prided myself in how well I was conserving the candies. I only ate a few here or there, and would just pop a few in my mouth at work. Luckily I have been busy with both of my jobs, so I only ate them at home for the most part.

And so began the turmoil of my poor gastrointestinal system. I began to notice more frequent trips to the bathroom, oftentimes more and more painful and horribly-smelling diarrhea. I mentioned it to my boyfriend because I was becoming concerned. I told him "It's the smell...it's like nothing I've ever dealt with. It's not normal, but more like a chemical smell?" I even asked my boyfriend a few more times if he was having similar issues. I was also very projective and passive-aggressive about his cleanliness around the kitchen. I feel awful and know I owe him a big fat apology when I see him. Poor guy :(

(Sidenote: I chalked these bathroom trips to stress from the recent zoom family therapy sessions, thinking I was so clever for remembering that "stress can do that to you, y'know." I totally didn't take into account that I was EATING THE MINTS DURING THERAPY. Yeah, I'm such an academic.)

Fuck up assurance and toilet resolution: A few days ago I started noticing my weight was dropping pretty fast. We're talking about 25lbs in 4 or 5 weeks. Again, in my brilliance, I credited this to me working a lot as well as quitting soda. I switched to tea and coffee. (I also thought the coffee was to blame, but coffee never gave me those painful, cramping, and horrid blowouts.) Anyways I was feeling pretty proud of myself for losing weight. Skinny Legend Last night I stayed up very late talking on the phone for almost 3 hours with my sister, catching up about stuff that happened in our family therapy. By the time our call was up, I had consumed 1 and one-third entire packages....about 20 mints or so in just that phone call's time. A new record. But there are no wins here, only profound losses.

Today's Fuck Up Confirmation: I woke up a few hours later at the asscrack (lol) of dawn. I was strangely feeling hungry. Bf went to work. I kissed him goodbye and went back to bed. Or so I thought. A violent violet cramp began to rumble until I was nearly doubling over on my way to the bathroom. Total (violet) Recall. (Bonus Willy Wonka quote: "You're pooping violent violet!")

And somewhere between my agony and my confusion, something just clicked. I went to search that pesky chemical I remembered from the ingredient list. And welp, what would you know: magnesium stearate, when consumed beyond small doses, acts like a LAXATIVE EFFECT...........Fuck.

For clarification: I consumed almost 14 entire packs of mints, plus a few extra from the first order, in 4-5 GODDAMN WEEKS?! I did the math for 18 packages....that's 270 MINTS. 270?!?!?! (My bowels when reading this: I gotta get outta here!)

Pls kill me.

Jesus Christ I'm so dumb it hurts. It literally hurts. My butthole. My pride. My self-assurance. But most of all, my butthole. The memory of these mints has been tainted by my willful ignorance, now conditioned by my folly. I feel sick just looking at them now.

RIP my sweet violet mints of long ago: once held in the light of careless happiness, now fallen to the deepest recesses of a hell where toilet blowouts reign.

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But most of all, I'm sorry to you, my sweet innocent boyfriend. You're amazing and I will be reading you this after work. Love u bby :{

TL;DR for those with normal gut health: I ate a fuckton of violet candies in a very short time and got horrible diarrhea for weeks. Turns out it was a chemical ingredient that caused a laxative effect.

TL;DR Lite Version: Bad thing in candy make tum tum go ouchie. Ate many candy in short time. Feel sad and not smart in brain.