I'm Constipated, Therefore I Am: An Introduction

Oh, hello! I suppose before going full-TMI I should properly introduce myself: I’m Jessica Coen, Jezebel’s new Executive Editor. I’m excited to be here, and I want to begin by oversharing in a cry for help.

Anna already went through the basic “Who is this chick?” spiel last month, so I’ll take a moment to outline a few more basics.

I was born and raised in the idyllic suburbs of Detroit. Royal Oak, if you’re familiar with the area.
I went to the University of Michigan. I cried when I watched the HBO documentary on the Michigan-Ohio State rivalry.
Actually, pretty much everything makes me cry. Not just sappy, stupid movies; I cry when I’m angry, too, which totally undermines anything I am trying to say.
I’m wearing a bite guard right now.
I haven’t gone to the bathroom since Friday.

Which brings me back to where we started. I travel a lot – I’m on a plane at least once a month, and I can personally vouch for the ruinous existence of jet bloat. And though Google will gladly discuss my specific situation, I’ve found that none of the suggested remedies really help. I’m in a long-distance relationship, and nothing kills the mood quite like clogged pipes. Not that there’s a mood to begin with &#;ndash; as soon as I get off the plane, I feel obligated to let him know how we’re going to roll (or not roll, I guess) for the duration of my visit.

Activia is too slow. Senna tea isn’t reliable (though I highly recommend it for general regularity). Anything that comes in pill form destroys me and isn’t worth it. Even the strongest coffee is weak in the face of my woes. I’m hoping that by tapping into the wisdom of the masses (and I realize we’ve been down this road before), I might find something that takes care of business in under 24 hours. Someone, lift me up from the third ring of the digestive inferno.