I love routine. Every morning, I wake up, drink a cup of coffee, and eat a bowl of cereal. Usually, a nice restorative poop is the next item on my agenda, but yesterday was different. “No biggie,” I thought, “guess I’m just a little backed up”. So, I continued like normal and hopped into the shower. But just as I stepped out, squeaky clean, I had a horrifying realization.
I’d just finished showering, and now I had to poop.
I don’t know where I went wrong! Had I eaten too late or not late enough? Had there not been enough fiber in my diet? Was my higher power testing me? This had been my daily routine for as long as I could remember: I pooped before I bathed so that my butthole was fresh and ready for the day. My shit schedule had always been just like clockwork. But there I was, post-shower and bowels aching to move. I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t deserve this.
Whatever the case, I had to take action. But, I was torn about what that meant for me. I considered just holding it in, because I didn’t have time to shower again before work. Everyone knows that a shower is void once a turd has breached your buttcheeks, so I wanted to avoid spending the day walking about unclean, dodging the judgemental looks by passersby who have confused me for a befouled street urchin, wafting impurity through the air. However, as the urge to do a doo-doo grew more and more pressing, I realized that it was futile to try and resist.
So I did the unthinkable: I pooped post-shower.
There was not time to shower again, so I did my very best to make my rear-end at least baby wipe clean. Regardless, the shame prevailed. I left my house and caught a subway to work, my fetid stench surely following in my stead. My fellow commuters did their very best to be polite, with most of them pretending to be focused on reading a book or texting on their iPhones. My coworkers treated me with similar respect, intentionally ignoring my hygienic indignity, even including me in the weekly office happy hour.
But I knew that they knew. I was a barely-clean ruffian with a poopy butthole.
Mark my words, I will never go through this again. In the future, I will have a solution. I’ll work from home, I’ll take a laxative, I’ll go constipated. But I refuse to ever again allow a poop to wait until after I’ve already showered. To all the ladies out there reading, please heed my warning: Do not let this happen to you. Shit before it’s too late.