People always ask me, “Christa, how will I know when I find The One?  Is there something that will sound the alarm that I've finally found that special someone who I'm going to walk down to the aisle with?”

I never really have concrete advice to give them, especially since that firework moment seems to be different for everyone.  But I will tell you, I definitely had my moment.  And it's burned into both Studhubs and my nostrils forever.

Lucas had asked me out, and like any sensible girl, I had said no (because he didn't fit my stupid list requiring him to be 6'4″ and older than me).  But he quickly turned on the turbo charge and chased me like a hunting dog after a fox.  That's right, I was his fox, but no, he was definitely not a dog with his rippling biceps and orange motorcycle.  We knew we were in love, but every moment still felt brand new as we uncovered mysteries about each another on a daily basis.  

His family was vacationing down in Gulf Shores, Alabama and had invited us to join them, so we hopped in my burgundy Camry named Rosie and drove down to spend the week at a house on the beach.

At the time, I wasn't living entirely free from an addiction to food.  I wasn't binging, restricting or purging as much anymore, but I was definitely obsessed with every calorie, every bite I put in my mouth, and every pound on my body.  Health food wasn't for health–it was for weight control–which meant, I was obsessed with it and it still held me in bondage.  But at the time, health food wasn't exactly on Luke's Mississippi-based family's grocery list.  The veggies were buttered and sometimes sugared, every dish included something with white flour, and the more something was fried, the better.  Glorious, tasty, southern foods that will rock your world….but foods this eating disorder health nut wasn't quite accustomed to.

Knowing I might be hanging out with my future in laws, the last thing I wanted was to be the high maintenance granola girl who was always asking them to cook an entirely different meal for her to eat, so I pushed my eating disfunction to the side for the week and attempted to go with the flow.  And by that, I mean, I dove in with a fork in each hand and ate everything in sight.  I ate things I hadn't eaten in years.  I ate things that made my tummy make noises no tummy should ever make.  But I didn't want to cause a fuss, so I ate.

And ate.

And ate.

On the drive back up to Nashville, we stopped for gas around lunch time.  I peered across the street at a big yellow McDonalds sign that I usually wouldn't touch with a 10-foot-pole and thought, “Well, I've already blown it all week.  Might as well!”  We stopped in Birmingham later that day to eat dinner with some of his old friends.  They picked a Mexican food restaurant.  “Cheese enchiladas, refried beans, rice, and 4 bowls of chips and salsa?  MIGHT AS WELL!”  If I got myself into the “I've blown it so I might as well…” headspace, move over football linebacker.  Christa was about to eat her meal, and steal yours, as well.

We got about an hour outside of Nashville when the 7 hour car ride delirium started to set in—you know, the part where you begin shifting in your seat to give your bum a break and checking the clock every two minutes to see how much time has passed, only to realize it's only been 30 seconds.  My seat shifting became more frequent, but it definitely wasn't to give my bum a break from sitting.

Something began to build inside of me, like helium filling a hot air balloon.

At first I tried the ‘if I ignore it, it'll go away' approach.  Yeah, not on your life.  My internal hot air balloon wasn't anywhere big enough to contain the toxic air growing inside.  And I knew in one painful, mortifying moment….this hot air was about to come out of my balloon whether I liked it or not.

In a tiny….enclosed….Toyota Camry.

Two feet from my new boyfriend.

At this point, you throw a few hail-mary prayers into the sky, begging God to do something AND DO IT NOW!  When that doesn't work, you try to figure out how you're going to justify cracking the window while cruising 75 down the Interstate without having anything to throw out.  Then insanity sets in…..Maybe he won't even notice!  Maybe this isn't the silent but violent type!  Maybe it just feels like a nuclear bomb is about to explode inside of my lower region!

But as the pain begins to feel like thousands of little daggers stabbing you in the abdomen, your body wins the fight, and you find yourself slowly tilting your bum in the opposite direction of his face, feeling instant relief as you unload what seems like a large elephant.

And then….you wait.

One, one thousand.  Two, one thousand.  Three, one thousand…..

OH MY GOSH WHAT IS ATTACKING MY FACE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!

We both clamored for the window latches on the door, hanging our faces outside in the fresh breeze–gulping for air as though we'd stayed suffocating under water for far too long.  I'd never smelled anything like it in my life, even though it came from my own body.  It was like something had died and filled the car, peeling the skin from our faces, lingering on our clothes and in our hair.  It was as thick as smoke, but you couldn't see it, and you definitely couldn't get away from it.  Ashamed, embarrassed, and overwhelmed, I slowly looked over at my new boyfriend to see, what I expected, was his look of disgust.

“Babe,” he said trying to keep the straightest face of concern that he could with tears building up in his eyes from the poisonous gas filling the car.  “Are you ok? Is there anything I can do?”

And then….I knew.

If that didn't scare him off, then nothing would.  If he still wanted me after that stench, then he could have me.

This was definitely the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

(Thought a good smile might brighten your day this Monday morning.  And there's nothing to bring a smile like a good flatulent story.)  (: