Everyone has an Embarrassing Poop Story but few have the kind of special courage it takes to share it on the Internet.
This woman (who kept a piece of her poop in her bag on a date) and then wrote about it on Twitter has my utmost respect hahahaha. She stayed true to herself which is something I always admire wtf.
Which is why I’ve decided to share my Embarrassing Poop Story.
Actually I’ve got tons wtf. But this one stays in memory because not only is it the worst, it is also the most recent. FML.
So here goes.
Chup ah. This was how I looked like at that time ok. Keep that in mind when you read the story.
Once upon a time (in 2012, shortly after our wedding), Fatty and I were in the Bay Area — I’d gone with him when he had a business trip.
And one day, we had to make a trip to San Jose for Fatty to meet a PR firm. So we took a long (by Malaysian standards) drive over from our apartment in San Fransisco.
The drive takes about an hour and usually it’s a nice chance for us to talk rubbish and play stupid games and generally is very enjoyable.
On that particular day though, Fatty started feeling pangs of pain in his stomach. I don’t remember what we ate the night before but it must not have agreed with him cos he suddenly felt like he had to go REAL BAD. Hahahaha.
Being the loving and supportive wife I am, I did what comes naturally to me. I laughed at him and proceeded to laugh for the next half hour as he drove like a demon and broke out in goosebumps and cold sweat.
Really FHL la! We couldn’t find any toilet stops some more so Fatty sped all the way to downtown San Jose, some more had to locate the office, find a parking spot then hustle in with clenched butt cheeks to use the bathroom before meeting starts.
Apparently, when he reached the toilet, he thought he also reached heaven.
Anyway I decided not to stick around for the meeting. There was a nice park nearby and I thought I’d take a walk. Also, Angela had a friend working in that area and I was waiting to meet her to pass her something (or take something from her I forgot)
I peacefully strolled around the park while waiting for Vivian, Angela’s friend.
Suddenly, my stomach gurgled.
OMG Karma, they were not kidding when they said you were a bitch.
My turn to have lao sai! And I’m stuck in a park with nowhere to go!
Surrounding me was just office buildings, no stores or restaurants where I could borrow the bathroom. I could have gone to Fatty’s meeting place but I didn’t actually know the exact location — Fatty left me at the park and went to the meeting himself.
And he was in the middle of the meeting so he didn’t reply my urgent texts wtf.
What was I to do? I started combing the streets, searching for a restaurant or cafe that I could enter. But no they were all private corporate buildings! In the meantime, my stomach was doing the rhumba, I was breaking out in cold sweat and I could barely stand up straight.
At this point I would be grateful for a drug store to buy an adult diaper BECAUSE THAT’S HOW CLOSE I WAS TO SHITTING THE PAVEMENT.
Then I found a post office! I was like OMG tons of customers enter it right, I’m sure they’d have a bathroom to use. So I went in and meekly asked some guy in uniform if I could borrow the bathroom.
He said, “Sorry miss. The bathrooms are upstairs and are for private use only.” And he gestured to a grill that was blocking access to a staircase.
With that, my heart shattered into a million pieces and I resigned myself to defacing the property of the United States of America (the post office floor).
Somehow I managed to twitch my butt muscles and walked out in what I hoped was a relaxed and dignified way.
I was doomed. There was no way I could leave San Jose with my self-worth intact. I could see the headlines now – “Woman defecates in front of post office, faces charges.” My only saving grace was that nobody knows me there wtf.
My stomach cramps faded a little bit and I made my way back to the park, wondering if I should poop there and bury the evidence wtf.
But lo and behold! There stood like an angel from heaven, a toilet. Smack in the middle of the park! My sphincter sang.
It wasn’t a portable toilet but a proper one.
Something like this. (Apparently this is in Hyde Park) It was a circular standalone cubicle although I remember it being more ornate looking with gold painted fixtures.
I stood outside and fidgeted while trying to figure out how to open the damn door.
For some reason there were absolutely no instructions! I know now that it’s an automatic door and I think you’re supposed to put money in to use it but the one I encountered really had no sign of what I was supposed to do. Not even a coin slot.
At this point I thought I’d have to take a dump outside the toilet like a poodle FML. Literal case of so near, yet so far.
But suddenly, the door slowly slid open. And the occupant sauntered out.
I rushed in. Then I couldn’t find how to close the door either. Eff this shit la.
Please remember that by now I think it had nearly been an hour. I didn’t know if I could last any longer. Pooping in front of strangers was starting to look like a better and better option. I had serious fears that I might actually vomit my poop, the way my stomach was behaving.
Finally I got the door sliding and it closed. I ran over to the toilet bowl and frantically unbuttoned my pants wtf.
It was too late. FML.
If you have a sensitive gut you may want to skip this section hahaha.
I pooped, guys. In my pants. FML.
The bad news is, there was a pile of steaming poop on my underwear FML max. The good news is, it was all neatly contained in my pantiliner WTF. Wonders of wonders! So my underwear wasn’t actually in any danger!
But life just keeps on giving. I turned to the side to find there’s no toilet paper wtf.
And when I was still sitting there, there must have been a timer because the door suddenly slid open, exposing me in my best moment to the world FML again.
I had to get up, waddle over to the door with my pants around my knees and shut it again.
Things must have gotten too traumatic at this point because I don’t remember what happened or how I managed to solve my issues. I know I lifted out my pantiliner and just dumped the whole thing.
But I don’t know how I solved the toilet paper problem. I guess I’ll never know now wtf.
All I know is, I staggered out of the toilet a changed woman.
It was two hours before I could tell Fatty my ordeal. (It must be noted that he was super nice and didn’t laugh at me although I was relentless about his diarrhea.)
And it’s been four years before I can hold my head high and write this down.
This experience has in fact taught me several lessons.
One: always wear a pantiliner.
Two: Marry a man whom you can tell your most disgusting things and he will still love you.