A blog about poop!

The following contains talk about poop. If poop bothers you, don’t read any further. Go find a blog with less talk about poop.

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My girlfriend likes to exercise. She likes to go for walks, go to the gym, lift weights etc. I really don’t. If someone else could exercise for me, I would let that happen. She tells me a lot to go for a walk get some fresh air, which I know is good for me and I should do it more but tonight I was given a great example on why I don’t.

I had the house to myself. I made some dinner, which consisted of the same thing I usually make myself for breakfast or lunch, whichever I’m awake for first, it’s some combination of stuff I find in the fridge held together with scrambled eggs and cheese. It all ends up tasting like butter anyway so it doesn’t really matter what I throw in there. After dinner I wanted something sugary. I usually have M&Ms around the house but I had eaten them all. “The store is a bit of a walk, but it’s not so far that I couldn’t walk there.” I say quietly to myself. “I’ll go up there and get some M&Ms. Then I’ll have gone for a walk and I’ll get the treats I so desire.”

I head out. Make it to the store and start back. Now, this is where I’m reminded of why I don’t go for walks more. About half way back, it hits me.

I gotta poop!

Anyone who knows me knows that when I have to poop it’s not a gradual thing where I start to feel it and am able to hold it for a while. Pee I can, and have, held for hours, no problem. But when it’s the other side, The feelings of having to poop don’t mean “hold it till you get home” it means “Find the nearest toilet or reasonable facsimile of a toilet.”

As I’m heading back this fire is growing in my belly. It’s getting more and more painful with each step. I’m starting to look around for places I could possibly hide and take care of this. In a bush. Behind a tree, perhaps. I’m not above taking a dook in the sand at a playground and burying it like a cat. I’ve done it before (on a side note, when I did that I found out that Blackberry bush leaves are both the best and worst of nature’s toilet paper. One side is covered in this wonderfully soft fur that actually works really well at cleaning one up. The other side, however, is covered in razor-sharp thorns that will tear you a literal new one.)

I think it’s okay. I can make it home. I don’t need to climb down to the bike path tunnel that goes under the street. I can do this. I start heading up the street to the house. I can SEE the house. Suddenly it’s that scene from “Poltergeist” where they’re running for the door and the hallway is ever expanding. The house, and more importantly the toilet in the house, are running away from me!

I catch the house and go inside, my house mate is home. I start out by saying “I have to take a dook you would not believe.” Somehow this registered in his mind as “Ask me how my evening went.” Instead of “I’m making a run for the toiler!”

He starts in “I thought you were going to the concert tonight.” “No, Emma had to work so we didn’t go.” “So you just went out to dinner then?” “No I ate here.” “Oh then…” “I’ll talk to you when I get out!” as the bathroom door closes.

I take care of my business. And now I have my M&Ms and I don’t want them anymore.

So now I’m here, not eating my M&Ms, tired and sweaty from the walk and crampy from having to hold it and walk.

If I hadn’t gone for the walk in the first place I would still not be eating M&Ms and less tired, sweaty and crampy.

How did that walk benefit me?

This is why I don’t go on walks.