Everybody Does It…But I Would Never Write A Story about It.
I am an enormous hypochondriac, and so when it comes to my yearly physical I always have buildup terrors which amount to nothing, as in the end it is never a big deal. I am always just fine . Afterwards I always breathe a huge sigh of relief and do a happy dance…and my recent physical was much of the same…everything was great…picture of health…so I started my happy dance..but then as I was almost free my doctor said…
If you don’t mind doing this at home and sending it back in…that would be great!
Okay you can stop being afraid right now because this is not a story about poop. I could not write a story about poop because I come from a long line of private poopers. We were more of a lock the door and lets not discuss doodie kind of family. To point out how much I could not write a story about poop I would like to share a little story or two…and yes they both start with…”I was dating this guy once…” As always
So I was dating this guy once…I met him in Yoga class…so I should have known. But silly me I thought…”Oooh he’s a health nut. It will be good to be around him. He will be a good influence on me.” I was even able to get past the fact that he wore drawstring pants and a murse (man purse) on our dates. I was even able to get past the fact that in the murse he carried a collection of concoctions, herbal remedies, poultices, a lucky amulet with some sort of fluid in it, & “Something he smoked for his migraine’s” I have never dated a man with a murse arsenal and I found it kind of fascinating. Plus he was cute…very cute…he had a yoga tummy…and he would do that thing where he would yawn and raise his arms and pat his yoga tummy…it was sexy.
By date 4 I was pretty ready to get to know that yoga tummy a bit better and was very happy that on this date he wanted to “Cook me dinner.” I was a bit nervous because…well I do not have a yoga tummy…and I was concerned about how his six pack would look next to my pudding pack. I was concerned that being the yoga guy that he was he would be really bendy and I would not be able to bend back. I was nervous. When I got to his house it was surprisingly lovely. Which made me relax a bit but not totally and being a nervous tinkler I asked to use his restroom…and when I got in there I saw something that baffled me. His toilet had two stories. There was sort of shelf with footrests built on top of the toilet seat. Now at this point I really had to pee and was not quite sure how to do so so I had to go back out and…question him about his toilet. A date first for me.
He was overly excited to discuss his toilet and he went on to explain that is was a “Poop Stool,” (which if you ask me is a bit of a redundant name). He then proceed to climb up on it fully clothed and mime a bowel movement experience for me…explaining that his bowel movements were very important to him and his research showed that you got a much deeper experience if you elevated and crouched. He looked so satisfied while he talked about it that I realized right then and there I would never be number one to him. That no matter how sexy I dressed, how good I smelled, how talented my skills were…PooPoo was his mistress and I paled in comparison.
Oh I tried to stay. I really did. He had made a lovely dinner. There were candles. There was wine. Soft music on the stereo. Good conversation, But every once in awhile he would get this far away look in his eyes and I knew his was dreaming of her…his mistress…his doodie girl. I got the feeling though he was enjoying the evening there was a part of him that could not wait for me to leave so that he could climb up and crouch. Also there were those other moments when he would get a look on his face and it would take me right back to his Poop Stool mime complete with the “I’m going now and it is a bit treacherous” face… and I just couldn’t muster up any attraction for him anymore.
So I left…it was for the best…and as the door closed behind him from inside his apartment I heard the quiet sounds of a courtesy flush and a sigh…and I knew someone was getting lucky tonight.
Oh and if you think the poop stool is not real….lookee lookee
The lovely model is showing it to you in a different position. I decided for the sake of all of us that I would let your imagination take you to the place where that is installed on the seat. I am considerate that way. I wonder if this gal was excited to get this modeling gig. If she phoned Aunt Sally back home full of promise for her future as a model “Guess What Everybody… I am the Poop Stool girl” I wonder if they had a parade for her in her home town.
Oh I know everybody poops
But that does not mean I have to write a story about it. No this is not a story about poop.
Just to stress how I could not write a story about Poop I have another little story.
Surprise this one does not start with “I was dating this guy once….”
So I was living with this guy once…it was both of our first times cohabitating with a person of the opposite sex…and also both of our first grown up apartments. We were young and it was a bit like playing house in the beginning. Moving in was very exciting. We were like a romantic comedy. Laughing and teasing as we moved in our boxes and set up our furniture. It was all a glorious game until that first night we ordered Chinese food in…and since we did not yet have a table we had a romantic bed picnic… and…well…long story short he excused himself I realized at that moment that we had a tiny one bedroom apartment and the bathroom was right off the bedroom.
I was terrified
Please do not think I am so uptight that his using the bathroom is what terrified me. Oh no I was fine with that. I mean it is natural…plus he was so okay with it…it didn’t seem to bother him. He came right out from his “session” and we resumed our bed picnic as if nothing had happened.
I was terrified at the thought that at some point I would either have to use the bathroom or explode. But I just couldn’t. So I came up with a carefully constructed plan. “”I left something in the car,” “I have to go grab something at the market,” “I am meeting a scene partner for a quick rehearsal,” at which point I would get in my car and go to the Denny’s two blocks down and use their facilities. I thought it was foolproof. Phew I had that problem licked. Until one night when I walked out of the bathroom at Denny’s and he was there…leaning against the wall…arms crossed and he said to me “How was rehearsal tonight?”
BUSTED
He was very sweet but he explained to me that he felt that if I could do that at home…our relationship was kind of doomed. He put a radio in the bathroom so that I could turn up the music…to deflect. FYI our relationship was still doomed. But it wasn’t from that. I lost touch with him after I moved out. Sometimes I wonder what he is doing. Maybe a life coach specializing in bathroom terror?
SO CLEARLY I AM NOT THE GAL TO WRITE A STORY ABOUT POOP
Which Brings Us Back to My Recent Conundrum…How is a girl who could clearly never write a story about poop do this…
It sat there on my shelf taunting me. I even thought if I carried it around and pulled it out as a joke I would make it less of a thing. It did not work…and also in the future if you are looking for fun party games..
“Hey Look at My Fecal Test Kit”
Is not a popular one. Hey I am here to help
Then I thought that if I just ate a whoe bunch of fiber…it would force me into doing it…So I consumed the following
- Artichokes, 10g of fiber
- Broccoli, 5g of fiber per cup
- Brussel sprouts, 4 grams of fiber per cup
- Quinoa, 5g of fiber per cup
- Brown rice, 4g of fiber per cup
- Kidney beans, 13g of fiber per cup
- Figs, 14 g of fiber per cup
- Prunes, 12g of fiber per cup
- Pear, 5g of fiber
- Almonds, 4g of fiber per cup
I also took some daily probiotics.
Activia Yogurt with added fiber
&
‘The Yakult Probiotic drinks
Although their latest ad campaign photo scares me
I would never have cast this actor as I agree with Mr. W.C. Fields when talking about things that steal focus away from you as an actor he said “Never work with Kids or animals or dancing colons…”
Anyhoo All that fiber gave me a stomach ache and made the next few night of work pretty rough as I feel the same way about using the bathroom at work as I did about my first apartment so it is hard to do the home test when you have jogged three blogs to the Macdonalds bathroom in order to avoid going at work.
So then I tried some diversion therapy.
Yes Mr. James Franco is even cute on the can…oh sure I would prefer him elsewhere but this photo in no way takes away for my love of him.
Also
I am strangely okay with Mr. Jude Law doing his business…especially when Mr. Ewan McGregor is in the tub next to him chatting. I don’t want to assume but I am pretty sure they are talking about me.
Also
When there is a bathtub there has to be a toilet nearby…yet I still love Bradley Cooper.
Also
Jake Gyllenhaal is running from the bathroom here…and I still love him
All those men are make doodies and they are still sexy! You would think that would make me get down to business and do that test…but nooooo. I just could not. So I called me doctor and told her I was sorry but I just did not have to stomach for it and I just couldn’t do it and she said…
“Well it’s that or a Colonoscopy…your choice.”
The test was in the mail 10 minutes later!
By the way the results came back and all is good. Thank god. Because otherwise I would have had to write a story about poop…and we all know I would never ever do that.
*you may have noticed I left someone out of my gorgeous men on the toilet montage…because though I have faced my fear of things poop related…I still refuse to believe Mr. George Clooney goes.
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