I will get to the bottom of this-- no pun intended-- and regain my regularity, Andrea thought to herself as she buttoned the long, green trench coat framing her trim 27 year old figure. Freshly curled and sprayed red hair tumbled from the inside of the collar and over shapely shoulders, framing her creamy complexion still slightly sun-kissed from her recent honeymoon to Jamaica.
Heavy footsteps resounding from the master bedroom preceded Andrea's dashing husband, Eric, a chiseled, closely shaved, and over-gelled History professor. The smell of after-shave aroused Andrea's nostrils as her young husband wrapped his muscular arms around her, closing in for a delightful kiss before heading off to work.
"Are you ready, sweetheart? Your appointment is in ten minutes." Eric graciously grabbed his wife's overstuffed purse from the counter and slipped his gloved hand into hers. They smiled and gaily walked out the door into the morning sunshine, all the while Andrea's bowels begging for sweet relief.