Sunday, November 11, 2007

further thoughts on pooing

my neglected muse; the bodily function. to poo, or not to poo? (at work). lunch table polling (what better time to discuss turds than over tacos) resulted in the obvious gender divide. where the daytime chronically constipated are also the people who support the makers of pocket hand sanitizer. these anally retentive germaphobes' sphincters constrict with horror at the contamination possibilities of a public toilet.

however, the primary variables posited (by the female sample) were the individual room versus the communal, individual stall. both noise and smell were cited as issues for either layout. the quandary lies in that closing a bathroom door hides the immediate deed to passers by, but it also seals in odour. with nowhere to disperse stagnant fumes, the next visitor is trapped (and invariably saw your hurried exit).

skid tracks are another problem if there is no guarantee of a brush (multiple flushes are an obvious giveaway). undoubtedly, the ultimate nightmare is clogging- although perhaps a troupe of ladies stamping around in wooden shoes would provide good noise and/or a diversion. generally employers do not provide a target "michael graves" plunger in each stall, and dry cleaning coathangers are the make shift "shit shifters" of the domicile.

former 80's pop singers with flammable hair aside, we all go into the bathroom to practice a very limited skill set. but many want to deny the collective common denominator (although my brother can truly do some unique and creative things making letters of the alphabet). my uptight personality can probably best be highlighted in the preadolescent refusal to carry the 'far too big for a plastic bag' bumper pack of toilet paper from the supermarket to the car. people might see; then they might think i actually used this stuff to wipe my bum; and then they would know that i took big stinky dumps.

as my taste buds have matured, so has my ego. giant burritos for dinner have forced me to overcome my fear of defecating at work the following day. however, i will contract my muscles for the entire 8 hours it takes to fly across the atlantic. supersonic toilet bowl air is not powerful enough to eradicate skid tracks.

1 comment:

Happily Even After said...

location location location has never been a choice for me in the pooing arena. when i have to go, i go. because i have to. i've never understood people's ability (?) to hold it in. ouch.