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Me vs. Pooping In Public

So, in a recent rambling post earlier this week I referred to the fact that I have a poop problem.

It’s true. I absolutely HATE to poop in public.

I will literally do anything to avoid dropping the kids off at the pool in a public venue.

I don’t think it has anything to do with OCD tendencies, but has everything to do with the fact that I want no proof that I actually do poop.

Which is ironic given that I’m writing this post.

And, that if you ask me to strip nude and run across a football field, I wouldn’t hesitate for a second.

Dare me to shit in a Wal-Mart bathroom and I’ll quickly opt to slam my head in a door for hours at a time.

True story:

I was the editor of a weekly newspaper, 24 years old, and shooting a triathlon at the YMCA one Saturday morning.

The race was winding down when all of a sudden I got that grumble. Yeah…THAT grumble.

The one where your internal bits-n-pieces flick you in the forehead and say “t-minus 10 minutes ya douche. Find a bathroom pronto or you’ll pay!”

I look over at the beautiful 2-year-old YMCA building and consider walking in to enjoy the elegant lavatory facilities, but pass.

In my psychotic mind I’m all “No….I gotta make it back to the empty newspaper headquarters to unleash the fury.”

Only, I needed to drop off the roll of film I just shot (yes, this was pre digital cameras) and then drive another 15 minutes to the offices.

Jump to 10 minutes later…the film has been dropped off, I’m 6 miles and 18 traffic lights from the office, pounding the steering wheel with closed fists while screaming “I can’t fucking hold it in!!!!” and in my mind seriously considering just letting it go.

I didn’t…..

I held it…..


I made it.

And when I sat down…let’s just say I made Niagara Falls look like a rookie.

I’ll save you further details but reveal that six hours later I had visited the doctor’s office and was standing at the pharmacy to pick up suppositories to help with the tiny rip I had from the massive exodus of poo that fire-hosed out of my “exit tunnel.”

In short, my balloon knot had been slightly damaged.

And there you have it…

I don’t like to poop in public. There are so so so many more stories…but for now, I leave you traumatized with that one.

Sweet dreams!


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Reader Comments (13)

Yep. Been there. I'm not as worried about pooping in public, as I am around people I know. I'd rather have an outhouse in the garage where I can go "work on stuff" than have my loved ones walk by the bathroom and say "Why didn't you warn me?!"

April 8, 2011 | Unregistered Commenter@danmoyle

My husband is the same way - and I thought it was only us women who had shy poop issues. He will hold it in all day at work and then bolt through the door at night just to poop in the safety of HIS bathroom. In fact, if he even knew I was writing about his pooping he probably wouldn't go again for a week :)

April 8, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterMichele

Practice makes perfect. Force yourself to poop at Walmart and after about 30 times you'll either have terribly infected anal sores or be cured of your shyness!

April 8, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterPerfect Dad

LOL...I feel shamed that I literally laughed out loud at work and jus got a dirty side eye from the boss. Gonna stop reading your blog during work hours.

April 8, 2011 | Unregistered Commentermamachickx4

I don't care about strangers knowing that I have pooped but, if a co-worker comes in and takes the stall next to mine at work, I'm traumatized by it. I'll even stay seated in my stall until they finish their business and leave so that I don't have to look them in the face there in the bathroom.

April 8, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterKat (@kathym425)

It is totally about the home court advantage!

April 8, 2011 | Unregistered Commenterthatissuch

Aw...and I'm eating lunch while reading this! Grrrrr

April 8, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterEllie

Oh, dude - not cool.

What I hate is the homing beacon I seem to have - whenever I have to poop, my need to poop RIGHT NOW seems to grow stronger the closer I am to an unoccupied toilet. The other day, I was running (because, well you know, it's a problem) and I really had to go. The problem was that I was running through another development - I could cut through houses & woods (likely tripping and or snagging my skin on brambles) to make the direct line back home, or I could just finish the run (another 1.5 miles).

I finished the run, but I swear, the "ebb & flow" of the severity truly matched my distance from home. I don't know how my body did it.

April 8, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterJohn

You poop!???! I am so grossed out by you. Fucking heathen.

April 8, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterLady of the House

I wont use a public restroom unless I am about to embarrass myself in front of everyone. And that goes for both # 1 and 2. Bathrooms creep me out, there so dirty and diseased lol. Only my home bathroom is safe and thats if its been cleaned daily which is a job my husband is forced to do. When I work I go when I wake up then have to wait till I get home late at night to go again. The weird thing is I have this phobia about bathrooms being dirty but could go potty outside without a problem LOL. I used to travel around when I competed in the rodeo. Since we were on the road, potty breaks where pulling over and the guys writing there name in the dirt as we woman huddled behind bushes (if there were any).

April 9, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterMama Sky

I can poop anywhere. Lucky me.
However, after this story, I will never look at a balloon, or the knot at the end of it, the same again.

April 12, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterMommy Nani Booboo

A rip?! I was already scared after hearing that the girl from Poltergeist died from holding it in... now you can rip your BH too? Great.

April 14, 2011 | Unregistered Commenterb harper

ahhhh, you're an HP!

My best friend Hillary and I dubbed that for her husband, the Home Pooper. We worry about him, because he travels so much. There will be international flight layovers and dude is still holding it.

I used to work with a woman who would leave in the afternoon to, "walk her dog" wasn't until years later that I found out that she had cats and was an HP too.

you are not alone...

April 18, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterPam P

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