The Devil Invented Artificial Sweeteners

Have you ever noticed, that when you are on a diet, your breath gets stinkier than normal?

No?

Okay, then it might just be me. I have the worst breath when I'm dieting. So, I'm really good about brushing, flossing, and having gum/mints around. (raise your hands if you floss. *raises hand* I'm obsessed with flossing.) I really think it has to do with the foods I'm eating, or not eating. My stomach is emptier than normal, so I imagine that the acids in there are bubblin' over. Thus, producing a noxious cloud of asparagus breath. (be happy that you don't have to stand close to me in a stuck elevator)
I especially like to have some gum or a mint before I meet with Tyrese. (because he is always all up in my grill, yo') I've pretty much offended him in every other way possible, so I want to avoid this last embarrassment. (Let's keep this one sacred. *snicker*) On occasion, I forget my gum so I suck on a cough drop. (did I mention that I'm 100% addicted to cough drops? Ever since this day.) Cough drops cover bad breath really well.
Well, one of my coworkers received a gift basket full of fun snacks. She separated her stash, and gave me most of the goodies. Included was a bag of sugarless candies. I put these in my bag, happy that I had something sugarless since my diet prohibited anything with sugar in it. (BTW, it also prohibits anything with artificial sweeteners, but Tyrese lets it slide. I think he's aware of the stinky breath problem that his clients are enduring) On the way to the gym, I pop a candy in my mouth. It was surprisingly tasteful, so I had another. I check the bag, and the serving size is 4 candies, so I figure I can have at least four total before I get to the gym. As I pull into the parking lot, I feel unusually bloated.
Weird.
As I park my car, I hear a rumbling grumbling sound. I trace the sound, and realize it's coming from me!
More squeaking, and moaning.
I trace the sound deep in my bowels.
I start to panic.
I grab my stuff, and run to the locker room. I barely make it in time. I'll save you the gory details, but lets just say my body has turned to liquid, from my neck down.
LIQUID!
I spend a very, very long time in the bathroom, praying for a quick death. I manage to get my stuff together, peek my head out of the locker room, and tell Tyrese that I don't feel good and have to cancel. (I must look like hell, since he doesn't even try to talk me into staying.) I grab my stuff, and walk slowly to my car.
I sit in the car, concentrating.
I have a 45 minute drive home.
On the freeway.
In afternoon traffic.
45 mins.
I clench my sphincter, and pray.
I barely, just barely make it home in one piece. (At one point, I was tempted to pull over on the side of the freeway, but did some deep breathing and managed through it.) I'm tired, bloated, sweating, and I have bad breath. But, I'm home. I sit in my private sanctuary for at least three hours.
A few days later, I'm at a business lunch. I just devoured a chicken breast, which was covered in onions. I reach into my purse, and pop a mint.
Wait a second!
I was on mint number 3 before I realized what I had just done.
Within minutes, I heard the familiar rumbling.....again.
Another night of suffering




The next day, I put the remaining candies in the candy dish in the lobby of my office.


Suckers.