FYI: Women Poop Too

I’m a busy mom with kids so we frequent fast food joints and Target on the regular. Those kids I just mentioned? I’ve had three of them so my plumbing isn’t as tight as it once was. In fact, my bladder holds for exactly 20 minutes on a good day. If I have to shit, that puppy is coming down the pike no matter how hard I clench my booty hole.

I’m not above going to the bathroom whenever there’s an opening that leads underground. I am, however, not interested in pissing or shitting in my floral panties and skinny jeans.

I wasn’t always like this though. When I was a kid, I never shit in school. I’d squirm my way through classes and try and release the repressed beast when I got home.

In college, I lived on an all girls’ floor and would wait until the bathroom was free to release my brown trout. If someone walked in, I’d lift my feet up so they wouldn’t recognize my shoes.

When I entered the corporate world, I’d take the elevator to a different floor if I had to poo, running in my heels and pencil skirt so no one would think, Katie has been gone for a long time. I bet she’s pooping. Because, God forbid.

I am not the same woman I was back in those days. I believe in pooping freely. And it feels good, damn good.

With all my time spent in various public bathrooms, I’ve noticed something. Without fail, when I enter and see a closed stall, I’ll hear the roll of toilet paper. For some reason, women of the world feel the need to stop mid-poo and squeeze it back in their reluctant chocolate cheerios, instead of pushing it out and pinching it off out with every new human alert. How’s that for tough?

It smells like pain and constipation and makes me want to shout, “Do not do this for my sake, please! We need to have the freedom to poop when and where we want! Sit back, relax your butt hole, and let that poo slide out!”

Let’s be very clear: Squeezing feces back in when it’s trying to exit is bad for you. Very bad. Plus, no one likes a person who’s packed full of stale shit. And you can grow anal speed bumps like fissures and hemorrhoids in the process.

Everyone knows people with vaginas have to eat too. Everyone is also aware they have an asshole. I think our society is smart enough to put two and two together; they just don’t want to think about us taking a number two.

Too fucking bad.

Stop being ashamed to poop. I see you with your shit spray in your purse thinking you have to carry it around every where you go. First of all, no one thinks, Oh they went in the bathroom and must have whipped up an apple spice latte while they were in there. And two, do you ever see a person with a penis trying to cover up the smell of the dump they just laid?

No.

They walk out giving zero fucks if anyone knows they were in there blowing mud. Here we are trying to hide it, hurry it up like we are in The Shitting Olympics, and they are having a damn party in there and bragging about it later.

Listen, you can have nice nails and drop one. You can be a powerful executive and let a stinker. You can look hot as fuck in a little black dress and grow a monkey tail in the privacy of a public bathroom stall.

Not to mention every mother I know has baked at least a dozen ass-dumplings with a child (or two or three) on their lap while the men of world need time, quiet, their phones and a lot of concentration. Shit, we should be the ones bragging up in here.

We get to make the rules when it comes to pushing out our messes.

We are too worried about offending people’s nostrils or being embarrassed because we too have to drop kids off at the pool.

Why aren’t we more worried about offending our stomachs, intestines, assholes, or underwear? Come on, we all know when you cut a dump short it takes a while to get sucked back in there which is a recipe for skid marks and dingle berries.

I don’t have time to clean up that mess, but more than that, I’m not taking that pain for anyone. If my bowels want to move, I’m-a-gonna let them. Who am I to argue with the loaded nachos I ate last night?

Women walk around with tampons tucked up their sleeve. If we have to fart, we hold it in feeling the sharp pains praying to the gods it doesn’t leak out. We want people to think we don’t shit, so we take hikes to do our business and think we need to leave the bathroom smelling like exotic fruits.

Enough already. Let your bowels move freely and stop caring whether people know you’re making a deposit in the porcelain bank, more than you do about your own comfort and health.

Women clean up enough of everyone else’s shit; we’ve earned the right to let go of trying to hide ours.