I’m not sure how to tastefully proceed with this post. I’ll just be frank, it’s about poop. Not cute kid poop. My poop. If you don’t want to read about my poop, stop reading now, I’ll understand.
Okay, consider yourself warned.
This morning I awoke with a bellyache. It’s Friday and I hadn’t “gone” since Sunday, so the bellyache was no surprise. I’m not a daily “goer”, but that’s a long time, even for me.
I decided it was time to give nature a helping hand, so I took a pill that is supposed to work quickly and without cramping then went about my usual school-day morning. Since it’s Friday, I needed to drop off Tony’s dry cleaning after taking Jack to school.
As Cooper and I set off for the cleaners, I had the same thought I have every Friday morning: we have got to get a new dry cleaner. We’ve used the same cleaners for years and originally chose them because the location was close to our respective places of business. But now, I have no place of business and Tony’s work either takes him out of town, or leaves him holed up in his home office like a hibernating bear.
About halfway there, I had the feeling that I needed to pass gas (Warning, things go downhill fast from here. You should really stop reading if you know me and want to be able to look me in the eye without giggling). Having taken that particular pill before, I knew that what felt like a tiny fart might actually be big and… here goes… wet. So I clenched my cheeks and pressed the accelerator down a bit. As I wove in and out of the morning traffic, the feeling passed. My relief was short lived.
I arrived at the dry cleaner and was glad to see only a single truck in front of me. Soon my relief turned to annoyance and then outrage as I witnessed the dry cleaning employee and driver of the truck chatting and laughing rather than conducting business. I was just about to yell, “Hey, lady about to shit herself back here” when the truck pulled away. Yes, I can still refer to myself as a lady with a straight face.
I was handing the bag of dry cleaning over when the first wave of cramping hit me. What. The. Fuck. That’s not supposed to happen with this medicine. I took a deep breath, concluded my transaction, and pulled away from the window.
I navigated the parking lot with one hand and wiped the sweat from my brow with the other. Then a wail went up from the middle row of the mama-mobile. I had forgotten to request a sucker.
I sighed, clenched my butt tighter, and circled back to the dry cleaner. I was now behind three cars. Another cramp hit and I think I passed out for a few seconds. When we got to the window I said, “wejustdrovethroughandIforgottoaskforasuckercanhehaveoneplease?” The man looked confused, but the cries of, “sucker, Sucker, SUCKER!” from the back cleared it up. He handed me three suckers and I tossed them behind me. My tires actually squealed as I pulled away.
Things got much worse after this. I can’t remember the exact order of events. I was a bit distracted and they all felt simultaneous to me. I’ll cheat here and use bullet points.
- Cooper freaked out again because he wanted me to take his sucker wrapper. I wouldn’t take it from him for it for fear that reaching back would create a millimeter of space between my ass and the car seat and a millimeter would be enough for crap to come shooting out of me.
- I realized I did not have my purse and driving without my license makes me ridiculously paranoid.
- I also realized I was not wearing underwear, which meant there was only one layer between me and the car seat. I was not interested in testing the absorbency of my pajama pants so I began to sit on one of my hands as if it’s presence would hold the poop in.
- I tailgated someone and got flipped off. Normally I give a cheerful wave to anyone who flips me off, but I didn’t have a free hand.
- I did a rolling stop at a sign that is often watched by a cop.
- My mind slipped into a day-mare about being pursued by the cops while driving without my license. In this imagined scenario they chased me all the way home and shoved tickets under the bathroom door while I pooped.
- Cooper freaked out some more because the sun was in his eyes and I wouldn’t give him my glasses. They were my regular glasses and giving them to him wouldn’t have helped with the sun and would have rendered me blind. More day-mares about traffic tickets ensued.
- I used the center turn lane to pass a very old man who was driving a very old Cadillac.
- I sped on a street that is often patrolled by a cop.
- I cursed aloud for using a dry cleaner so far away from home.
- I had more day-mares.
Finally, I arrived home. I jumped out of the car, left it running, and left Cooper buckled in. In the house, I called out to Tony, “GetCooperoutofthecarIhaven’tpooped sinceSunday!” Then I shuffle-ran to the bathroom while holding both hands over my butt-hole.