Stage One: So hungry you want to gnaw your own arm off. You might be hangry but you are not allowed to have a Snickers to fix it, Betty White.
Stage Two: Sad from lack of calories.
Stage Three: Feral. As in you are surreptitiously sniffing the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and actually considering licking them clean like the dog. (Be warned that if the dog catches you doing this, you might have to fight to retain alpha dog status.)
Stage Four: Nauseated from the clean-out meds and subsequent Great Lakes worth of water you have to ingest in an amount of time that would give any frat boy pause.
Stage Five: Shooting skin scorching flames directly out of your colon.
I know I've made you all want to rush right out there and schedule one of these but it's a temporary discomfort to ensure your health. So if you have a family history (like me) or are over 50 (unlike me), suck it up buttercup and get it done. And the anesthesia they give you for the actual procedure itself (notice it's not in the stages--it's the reward that you get after you conquer the rest) is so lovely you might just want to propose to your anesthetist.
So funny, Kristen - and so true! And I'm glad I'm not the only one who looks forward to that anesthesia!
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