I Blame the Y. And W/W.

Warning: Mild scatological references. Brace yo'self.

And X & Z for that matter. See, I skipped Pilates this morning for two reasons. Firstly, because I had a sudden onset of the tummy rumbles and had to rush home to the restroom. And secondly, because I had a sudden onset of the tummy rumbles and had to rush home to the restroom. I'll explain.

Reason #1: I take Pilates at the Y. There are no private restrooms at the Y. Nobody wants to have embarrassing bodily functions in a giant open room where people are showering and changing clothes and putting on makeup and drying their hair and so on. And the people who are showering and changing clothes and putting on makeup and drying their hair and so on certainly don't want anyone to have embarrassing bodily functions in that room. So I came home.

Reason #2: Today is weigh-in day. I was not best pleased. I didn't gain, but I didn't lose anything either. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Goose egg. So, when the tummy rumbles came on, I couldn't help thinking about the fact that I had not yet consumed any food or beverage today and maybe after the, erm, evacuation I would have a better weigh-in result. Is this pathetic? Undoubtedly. Is it cheating? Probably. Do I care? Not a whit. So I came home.

So, you see, I think I'm perfectly justified in blaming the end letters of the alphabet. After all, it couldn't be my fault.