My butt-cheeks are clenched tighter than a vault door, a fine sweat gathering between them like beads of nervous dew, all because of that deceptively innocent pack of Eclipse strawberry mints. My stomach churns and twists, sending urgent signals to my brain as if an emergency alarm is sounding. Each step towards the bathroom feels like a desperate race against time, each breath a strained whisper of hope, praying that relief isn't too far away. Finally, I reach the porcelain throne, collapsing onto it with a sense of deliverance. A sigh of relief escapes my lips, the tension melting away!