the poop talk

I might be coming on a little strong here, but I don't personally see a problem leading with poop because it's funny and universal. Plus, it lets you know that not only do I refuse to back away from the realities of having a human body (news flash: they are often gross), but I'm chill and approachable :^)

Let’s not forget the age-old adage, “everybody poops.” Here’s an updated version for adulthood.

“Shitting your pants: It could happen to you!”

As it turns out, I know a lot of people who have shit their pants OR who do shit their pants on a regular basis. It tends to come with the territory when you’re chronically ill (“You don’t fucking say?” - people reading this who have IBS, probably). I don’t really know why my first encounter with pooping my pants took me so off guard. I’m really no stranger to being covered in feces, as a pet owner and ex wildlife rehabilitator. Nevertheless, I was lucky enough to make it to 22 before I ever shit my own pants, which is apparently just enough time to get comfortable not shitting your pants on a regular basis that it makes suddenly shitting just right in your pants a little jarring.

I was sick with the flu in this particular instance. It was weird, because one minute I was like "I should go job hunting" and the next thing I knew I had been puking for 24 hours straight, and then I had shit my pants for the first time and I simultaneously felt like a helpless baby and rather aged and weary. Time sure flies. 

The Event happened on the second day of puking, first hecking thing in the morning, which was even better for a first-timer like myself. You should know that I’m fairly certain I have DSPD, which is a sleep disorder that makes you hate mornings. (Seriously, it’s called Delayed Sleep Pattern Disorder and it’s a real thing; I usually can't go to sleep until between 3-6a, so it suffices to say that I don’t “like” waking up early, but it’s more accurate to say that that it’s extremely difficult for me to wake up in the morning because I am seriously not functional yet and I already have very poor eyesight and generally it's just a very bad idea for me to be up in the morning because I'm probably going to injure myself.) 

Have you ever fallen asleep while drunk (or high? Or both?) and taken a little mini-nap, perhaps on or near the toilet, only to wake up feeling like Rip god damn Winkle only 5-10 minutes later? Like your body meat actually consists of a garbage bag full of ramen noodles with bad breath? Where you’re like, not yet entire sure where (or who, or when) you are, and you’re trying so hard but your brain is going up the down escalator? That’s me in the morning, every morning, when I’m sober.

I want to say about my discovery that day, "imagine my chagrin," but I also feel like this is not the emotion I’m looking for. I’m not sure if there is a word for the emotion you feel when you’re like that, not 100% back on this plane of existence, and yet you’ve become acutely aware that there’s a significant quantity of your own poop in your underwear? “Abject terror”?

Interjection: I doubt that other animals have to have the “everybody poops” talk with their offspring. I think it's just us. In the myriad of life on Earth, billions of species evolving and disappearing, so many of them defecating, multitudes of which develop their asshole in the womb before any other features emerge (fun fact: this was you! congratulations!), and out of everything that ever happened, we are the only ones who have to go out of our way to be like “Listen. Pooping? Everybody does it. It’s gross, but everybody does it, so it’s ok. Don’t be scared of your own butt.” And we're like so embarrassed, we have to explain to children not only that it's natural and that it's ok to do pooping, but it's okay for everyone, and then most of us jump through hoops to talk about it again. Nature is amazing.

Anyway, I really believed that if I could make it 22 years without shitting myself, I would go the rest of my life without shitting myself. I already had been sick with what we thought was Lyme disease for about 3 years at that point so I’m not sure who let me get away with thinking that, but I had never even considered that I might personally shit in my pants, and that's weird, because thanks to my anxiety, I often have a plan for things that maybe other people wouldn’t have a plan for — things that frankly, maybe you should have a plan for, like “what if the house catches on fire while I’m sleeping in the nude?” Or “what is the fastest acceptable evasive maneuver if I see someone I know in Target?” Or “In the event of an alien abduction, how do I get the real X-Files phone number?” I think I may have even had, somewhere in the back of my mind, a plan titled “In case of shit pants at Walmart,” but that was due to a really specific incident that happened to someone I know and that information ultimately could not save me.

Cause like, it’s one thing to be that groggy in the morning. (I walk into walls/doors trying to get to the bathroom the morning on a now daily basis. I wish I was kidding.) It’s another thing that I already had the flu and had been puking at the slightest hint of movement, and whenever I get the flu I get all weepy and emotional for the entire duration. I was already drafting up my last will and testament feeling very vulnerable. I expected to wake up feeling terrible, but not quite to this degree; I wasn’t 100% sure what was happening, but I did know several things.

1. Something was touching my butt
2. Warm
3. SMELL
4. IT’S POOP
5. H E L P
6. I then realized that I was home alone, and I'm sure had I not been, my roommate would not have helped, and I wouldn't have dared ask her to, but she would have been rewarded with the sight of me crab-walking very carefully to the bathroom in my freshly soiled underpants, butt as low to the ground as humanly possible, weeping openly, because I was already sad about being sick and then this happened

I don't even think I took my clothes off before I got in the shower. Maybe the underwear, which I threw away, and then I threw that garbage away, and then I threw that garbage away, somehow making it to the dumpster even though I could hardly move because it was crucial that there be no evidence, and that nobody should ever know about this. And then, after spending maybe an hour trying to make absolutely certain I wouldn't shit myself again, convinced I was safely on the other side of this harrowing event, I immediately told at least three other people.

My mom was the first to hear the news, and I was expecting sort of a sarcastic response, but what I got was “Hah, it’s like that time when…” and then she launched into a 30 minute soliloquy of all the really good pant-shitting stories she knows (the best of which is when someone I know shit her pants while she was on a hike with her romantic interest, who - bless his heart - buried her pants in the woods for her and carried her back to the car which honestly, is the minimum standard for partners’ shit-crisis skills IMHO. If that guy would be too busy judging you to bury your soiled underwear in the woods, he’s just not the one. I am dead serious). Turns out, a majority of the adults I know have done this at least multiple times, if not on a regular basis. When I texted my friend, I got much the same reaction about her ex.

I guess I felt a little betrayed that this wasn't something they taught me in high school? Like, "by the way, it's statistically likely you'll shit your pants someday, so be ready"? I’m not sure what I expected instead? Sympathy? Like, aww! let me say a little prayer for your butt? I know that I was not expecting “lol, same” or “you know x y z people from your childhood? Boy, do I have some stories for you!” Although it is comforting to know that at least I’m in good company when it comes to surprise bowel movements. Ultimately, this experience made me very thankful for the people who are in my life and who understand poop on the level that they do. Instead of being mortified about my little accident, I chose to look at this moment for what it was; a milestone. My First Incontinence! There’s one for the scrapbook.

If you’re not the type of person who has shit yourself yet, and you read the title of this post and went "??" (which is an expression you make with your eyebrows, for the record), then it must be so nice for you, I guess. Good for your butt. But be warned: it’s best to have a plan for when you - or someone you love - defecates uncontrollably. It could strike at any moment. Who would you rather be right then and there? The hero who buries the poopy pants and carries the girl off to Valhalla, or the weirdo who is so repulsed by normal-ass bodily functions that you scar your friend for life with your “not ALL butts” attitude?

ANYWAY, I’m not here to tell you that shitting your pants is imminent and then just leave. I’m here to help! Here is what happens when you shit your pants. You know, so you can be prepared.

In the Event that Pants-Shitting is Imminent

* You may feel a sense of cold, creeping dread emanating from the bottom half of your body. It kind of feels like cramps, or a LOT of potato chip farts are stuck in ya. You might not be able to tell exactly what’s about to happen at first, but like the buzz of electricity in the air before lightning, your Butt knows that a force of nature is about to strike. You need to heed this warning. This is stage 1: “Am I about to shit my pants?” 

*  Obviously, if you think you have time to make it to the bathroom etc., you can try. But once it’s become clear that it’s too late for you, just lean into it. Accept your fate and be prepared for a seat full of warm poo. It’s no use pretending you’re asleep. That will make all that poo a lot more difficult to deal with, trust me. This is stage 2: “Oh my god. Yep.”

What comes next, as mentioned, might seem somewhat familiar to you. It’s a process we all go through eventually. This is Stage 3: “I shit in my pants, now what?”

Denial: “No no no nono. I did NOT just shit myself. Nope. No. This can’t be happening.”

Anger: “Like are you fucking kidding me? How could I have shit myself?? I am busy here! I am an adult! ADULTS DONT POOP IN THEIR PANTS LIKE LITTLE DIAPER BABIES. Nobody told me I was apparently supposed to be wearing a diaper today! Did not get that memo! Thanks for the heads up, God! Tch!”

Bargaining: “Maybe if I waddle like a crab with a wedgie I can make it to the bathroom without dropping any on the floor? Maybe it’s like when a tree falls, like, if you shit yourself in the stairwell and no one is there to hear it, did you truly make a shart?” 

Depression: Your mind goes blank in the post-poop shower, and you mourn that pair of underwear while you think about all the life choices that led to this moment. Could you have prevented this? Is there anything that could have altered your fate? Could you have done something different? Could you have saved those pants?

Acceptance: Posting about it publicly on Facebook/Twitter, followed by a string of every butt pun you and your friends can possibly think of. The Doodie is Done. It's time to move on.

tl;dr Shitting yourself; it’s a reality of life, adults do it, and it could happen to you. Especially if you like butt stuff in the sexual way, seriously, be careful with that. I've been told by others, in these precise, exact words, "It’s like a plunger." Better safe than sorry if you ask me.