“Do you need a laxative?”
And because she’s a mother and contractually obligated to embarrass me even though I’m now 30 years old, she didn’t say it quietly. Or in private. Nope, it was as we’re walking through the pharmacy section of the grocery store the day after I had my wisdom teeth removed because apparently T3’s make ya constipated. That would have been nice to know before I started popping ’em, but alright.