Friday, January 15, 2010


Recycling an older blog for today's True Story. I can laugh about this shit now, but I used to be very modest when it came to the good ol number 2. I'm obviously not the only one. Out of the 11 women that were at my good friends Friday night for yummy food, lots o wine and good conversation, we could see a distinct correlation between what shames us and our ages. Basically, as we age, less seems to mortify us. Now, given that the oldest person in the room just turned 30 and I'm guessing the youngest was a mere 20, we didn't have the broadest range to make this judgement, but at that rate, it will be interesting to hear what conversations this same group of women would have when we're 40 let's say. So I'm linking up with Rachel & Mr Daddy today over at Once Upon a Miracle to prove that not much can embarass me anymore ... this is something that would have shamed me very much just a few years ago and now, is something that I can laugh my ass of at and tell whoever will listen ....
Now I know this isn't the most ideal blog to write, I am a lady after all (or am I?) but I hit a milestone yesterday at work ... I did a #2 in my new building for the first time. We moved here in October. Yes, I go to work every week day. And yes, I'm a fairly regular person. I'm not an overly shy person, but when it comes to spending more than 1 minute on the toilet, or passing gas in front of anyone besides my kid or my cat (probably just my cat), I'm a little more private than most. Or maybe the term's anal? .... I've been holding it my hole life and I've never had any complications or near misses. Ok, that's an out n out lie, I've had near misses and if you want to keep reading, I'll tell you about one. I'm going back a few years now, around the time I learnt how to play blackjack. It was a Friday and sometime in between April and October. My company closes at 1pm on Fridays between those months and we were off to celebrate. My bcwf (best co-worker friend) and I headed from our office to the casino just outside of downtown. We hit the bank machine, grabbed a drink, and headed for a lucky lookin lucky lucky table where we had planned on spending the remainder of the day. Unless of course, we hit 6-7-8 suited, then were off to Vegas. Realistically speaking though, our plans were to spend the rest of the day playing. We were a little over an hour into playing when it hit me. The pain. And for those of you who don't know me and Silly Sally very well (and you will all know us a little better in a sec ...), the pain is the exact second that your insides start turning. The tummy is gurlging. And you have as little as 1 minute to make it to a toilet, a bush, whatever or you are going to shit your pants explode. And I don't care who you are, you've all got The Pain at some point in your life. I've tested my limits a few times, and if I had more time and wasn't a lady, I'd share my other stories. Now this Friday in particular, I tested my limits beyond anything I've ever been willing to risk in all my life. Even when I was in labour and the nurse was yelling at me to push and I refused because I was scared I would poop in the floor, I wasn't as scared that I was going to have an accident as I was this particular Friday. And it wouldn't be so bad if I were to tell you that I had ran around the casino to find a washroom, did my doodie duty, then headed back to my table where my bcwf, pack of smokes, Coors lite, and stack of chips were waiting. But that wasn't the case. I decided in about 10 seconds flat that I could not, and would not use the public casino washroom in that manner. Had I been in the hood end of the city, maybe ... but downtown? I don't think so. It took me about 5 minutes to get to my car after yelling some stuff at my bcwf, grabbing my chips, running to the cashiers cage, grabbing my money without counting it, and bolting out to the parking lot. I'm surprised security didn't mistake me for someone who just knocked over the casino and take me down. But I had made it to my car, I was safe. Almost. I just needed to make it home, and all would be well. Yes, you are reading this right, I decided in my painful haste that I was driving home to use the washroom. Wouldn't be so bad if I lived across the street, or even a few blocks away, but again, this wasn't the case. My house was over 10 miles away. And as I'm pulling out of the parking lot, it really hits me ... I have to shit my brains out, I'm on the wrong side of downtown, and it's rush hour. So an expected 15 minute drive turns into the scariest 45 minute ordeal in my entire life. I pull into the back alley at my house and all I was thinking was that it's going to gross and messy, but at least my car will be in my garage so I can clean it in privacy and nobody will have to know. Thankfully, even as a person that doesn't really know what to make of God, I had a higher power looking after me. I made it out of the car, into the house, and up the stairs to my own private washroom. I was relieved, in more ways that I can describe ... and safe, and clean. And ready to get back to my lucky lucky table. And that I did. I made it back to the casino before my bcwf could pound too many more beers than I, and we finished off our day and evening playing blackjack. Every so often, she'd look at me and laugh. Couldn't believe I just did what I did. So this sets the scene for what an accomplishment yesterday was for me. And it was my choice to do it, I could have waited, it wasn't one of the near-miss kinda pains, a less panicked kind ... but for no reason that I can remember, I thought to myself "Fuck that! I have to go and nobody's going to stop me!". Wow have I grown .... Nearing the end of my stay in the stall, a longer stay than I ever thought I'd be able to manage, people started coming in for their afternoon coffee pees, and I wasn't even uncomfortable. Well, maybe a little because I did wait for everyone to leave so I could make a graceful exit, and put the air freshner back on the counter without anyone knowing what I was up to. What a great discovery, the good ol' poop/flush/spray .. all at once, no time for a break, get er done and then get back to work.


  1. there's a name for people like us: Home Poopers. i can't go in a public toilet unless it is the furthest one away from where i am. like at work, i have to use the bathroom that is hidden waaaaayy at the back of the department where nobody goes. and i always use it when nobody else is on break.

    i carry a small glade air freshener in my pocket or purse just in case the bathroom doesn't have an air freshener.

  2. I've heard the casino poop story before and I laughed at, I mean with, you just as hard today as I did back then.

  3. Oh my word. SO funny! : ) Glad you were able to conquer that fear.

  4. Why does this give me the giggles? Juvenile, I know. But it's just as funny the second time reading it.

    I think you're right about getting older and not being embarrassed by as much. Cuz now we have kids to embarrass us, right???

    Thanks for linking up!

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  6. My office is not far from the bathrooms. There's a tile hallway outside the bathrooms. Tile makes things echo. I can hear every noise the boss makes in the bathroom. I've now started putting in my earbuds when I hear him close the door.

    (Sorry for deleting the first comment. I saw a typo and had to fix it. Anal, I know. Wow, now that's an appropriate statement today...bahahahahahaha!)