TIFU by eating a half-a-jar of hot fudge...

This one is a little vulgar/gross, so just be warned. Also, this happened a couple of years ago but I decided that today? I'd be a nice guy and share it with all of you.

Had a chocolate craving and remembered the unopened jar of Hershey's Hot Fudge™ in the cabinet. If you've never seen this, it's basically fudge that is vacuum-packed into a glass jar that melts/expands when heated up. So I grabbed myself a table-spoon and went to town. Before I knew it, I had consumed about 1/2 the jar.

Then I go about my life as normal for another a week or so.

...Or so I thought. What I didn't notice is I hadn't been paying anywhere near as many visits to the bathroom. In fact I can't recall if I'd used the bathroom at all. That is until I get the rumbling of a lifetime. So I say "let's go!" and hop to the restroom.

First sign of a problem: nothing is moving. I can feel it, I have to go, but there's nothing coming. But I pull up my pants and go about my day with a mild stomachache, figuring it was just a false alarm.

Round 2. Same problem.

Round 3... same problem. Okay, what is going on?

I think it was later that evening that another wave came. It was more intense... and I remember actually feeling relief here, as in my mind, this was gonna be the time.

So I sit down and notice things are finally starting to move. I push, and push, and push, to the point of sweating. Now I'm starting to get worried. Clearly, whatever is trying to come out is massive, and it's not passing naturally. I give it my absolute all, and I was in excruciating pain at this point, but it just wouldn't come.

This was the first time I knew something was seriously wrong. I panicked, reluctantly reached "down there..." and my heart literally sank: I could feel a little bit of poop poking out at the sphincter, but it was solid (like playdough) and almost dry. To make matters worse, I had what can only be described as a tennis-ball sized lump extruding from that area-- yes, around my pooper.

So heart racing, and unwilling to go through with this thing I pulled up my pants, which resulted in a very painful "retraction of contents." Contents that, just moments ago, were at the surface. I stand there, writhing in pain for what felt like forever while things "moved back to position" before finally back to my computer.

One Google search later and I'm panicking even more. My bright idea was that there must be some kind of solution for this: like... a pill or something that you can just take to break it up or make it softer. Surely, we aren't just expected to pass something like this...

My first dismay was reading that we will, in fact, have to pass it.

My second dismay was reading that it is, in fact, dangerous to just take laxatives... as that could just result in more "compounding" rather than "resolving" and just make the situation worse.

My third dismay was learning that the only viable / working "methods" for such an issue involved ramming an enema into your ass, squirting water, holding it in, and then hoping things come out smoothly.

The problem is, an enema gives you the feeling that you have to "go" urgently, and can be quite painful. The aforementioned sphincter was already excruciatingly sore and tender thanks to the previous excursion, and I was SO FULL that I couldn't even imagine fitting the end of the enema in there.

In my mind, there was no way in hell I could pass this thing without death being imminent.

I call my mom. She comes rushing over in a panic. We sit down together and I explain the situation. She calms down, as she'd dealt with something "like that" before and suggests a suppository.

My fourth dismay was learning that a suppository is this (not so) little capsule-shaped thing that you literally push up into your butt and forget about. You let it dissolve, which in-turn is supposed to help break up/dissolve the poo inside you.

I sigh, defeated. No matter what happens, and no matter how painful: I'm going to need to stick something in my butt and pass this thing. Mom convinces me that the suppository is the most painless option, so I begrudgingly agree to let her go buy some.

Enter that night: I insert the suppository, which, I'm not even joking... was one of the most painful things I ever experienced, since like I explained, the area was already extremely painful, sore, and tender. I hold it in: for the life of me, I hold it in.

Then comes the rush. I sit down, terrified, panicking, heart racing. I push, push, and push. Small amounts of warm liquid begin excavating... but guess what? The poop was still there, it was still hard as a rock, and my earlier claim that it was a "tennis ball" was false: it was actually about the size of a baseball.

I go to the hospital.

Nurse sticks what looks like a garden hose (and felt like a pressure-washer) up my ass and begins unloading. I keep getting fuller, and fuller, and fuller... literally screaming in pain at this point... and with each jet-stream I feel more, more, and more full. It literally felt like I was so full that I was going to float away like a shit-filled balloon. Finally, after what felt like 5 minutes, they stop.

"Hold it in, and sit down on the toilet when ready."

Wait, what?! You're not going to help me?!

The nurse leaves the room, and I'm laying on this cold bed writhing in pain. I wiggle around and identify the toilet, which to my dismay, is just this weird plastic seat with a grocery bag under it and two handle-bars. At this point, nothing is stopping what's coming. The liquid moving around inside me felt like fire, and I was in so much pain that I could barely move.

I hobble over to the toilet, doing everything in my power to keep myself from exploding. I sit down, heart pounding, and begin to push. "Oh my God, it's still not coming..." I sit down again and begin to push: this time, water begins to spray out of me, and the poop stretches me like a woman giving birth. My mouth agape, I let out a scream and push with all my might.

"It's still not fucking coming! It's partway there but it's just too big. I can't do this..."

At this point, the pain was so severe that I couldn't even see straight and my body was screaming at me to get this thing out. I remember wanting to give up and reaching to pull my shorts up. But then, like a miracle... one more involuntary contraction came while I was mid-squat (reaching for my shorts)... and BAM.

Literally, like a fucking shotgun blast, a large chunk of shit came flying out of me and into the bag with a "swish" sound. In that moment, I felt more relief than I ever had in my entire life.

The struggle wasn't quite over, though. The pain was immeasurable. But it was coming, and I've never been more happy to poop. After about ten more minutes and a LOT of wiping, I finally put my clothes back on and exited the room. I remember having this involuntary smirk on my face. Like, I knew I just blew up the entire hospital with an unpleasant smell, but I just couldn't help myself.

I went to stop by the desk to ask if I need to do anything, but before I was even within a few feet of her she was like "you're good to go!"

...I walked more swiftly after that.

Like, she just knew by the look on my face that it had happened and didn't even want me to get near her. Oh, and by the way... the fact that I ate a half-a-jar of hot fudge didn't even dawn on me until days after the incident. It was like a lightbulb went off in my head, and I vowed never to touch fudge again so long as I live.

TLDR: ate a half-jar of hot fudge which led to putting various things up my ass and a trip to the emergency room to poop out a baseball. I still to this day struggle with constipation, likely an after effect of the bodily trauma.