I saw an amazingly beautiful woman in the grocery store.

She was tall and thin with long blonde hair and high cheek bones. She looked like someone Hollywood would cast as Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love. She even had a certain aura about her, like she knew she was Aphrodite.

That’s when I looked in her grocery cart.

And saw the package of toilet paper.

And something inside me died.

Yes, I know. Everyone does it.

But I wanted to think she was above it.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was this:

It was a 24-pack.

And no, she had no ring. So she had no husband. And probably no kids.

It was all for her.

My Aphrodite.

The one with bowels.