Why is it that every time that I have to take a shit I wait until the very last second before clenching my butthole and taking very delicate, awkward steps to the bathroom? Do I think that if I just repressed my poo that it will eventually seep out through my pores and I won’t have to get up? Why is it that no matter what I am watching on TV always seems to have priority over me taking a shit? I could be lying in my bed watching something that I am bored to tears by and I would still try to hold my poop in through those last few anxious seconds.
To be frank, it doesn’t make sense. Why risk something like crapping your pants as an adult over watching a few more minutes of a movie or reading a few more pages of a book. I can pause the book or movie, but I can’t rewind my life after my boxers are filled with soft-serve chocolate fro-yo. The risk is clearly not worth the reward. If anyone out there is writing a philosophical piece on why humans are not rational creatures, this essay could be cited.
Do I get off on the thrill of it? Maybe. I mean whose life couldn’t use more excitement? However, it would seem that most people will resort to gambling or fighting before they start trying to play chicken with their poops. I suppose it is much more socially acceptable to say you are a danger junkie and go on roller coasters and go bungee jumping than to say you’re a danger junkie and you just sit on your couch, downing laxative after laxative waiting for your adrenaline to spike and your underwear to fill with poo stew.
Like very few things in my life, I might just do this one for the exercise. My heart races and I sweat profusely when I’m in a life-or-mess situation. I can actually feel my muscle tissue in my butthole getting stronger. If someone ever tries to rape me (fingers crossed it won’t happen) you can believe that my balloon knot will be able to put up a formidable fight. So I suppose the exercise and possible rape prevention seems like a viable option to hold in my poo-nami wave until the last second.
The part of this ordeal that I dislike the most would be when I actually have to move my body onto my defecation station. With every step I clench and tighten my poop chute, trying to keep the darkness in the dark. It takes a sort of cowboy waddle to maintain this delicate equilibrium. Like a champion though, I can maintain (generally) as I hold my champagne cork snug until the celebration.
And when you hit that toilet seat let the celebration begin. Nothing feels better than knowing that you have made it without spilling any of that dirty chili. I’m pretty sure that time stands still during those fleeting seconds when the all-out bum rush torrent of shit empties into my toilet bowl.
I think that this balancing act could be considered the world’s most dangerous game. Consider this: if you lose in the traditional most dangerous game (hunting man) you are dead and do not have to face the humiliation of losing, but if you lose in this game you have to spend the rest of your life being reminded by your friends and family that you shit your pants as an adult. People don’t forget a thing like that, ever.
So basically what I’ve gathered is that I hold my shits in until the very last minute because:
(a) – For the thrill of it.
(b) – To protect my colon candy from unwanted intruders
(c) – The victorious feeling accompanying making it to the crapper in time.
So the next time someone tells me to “Just go already”, I’ll reply to them, “No thank you, I’m protecting myself from rapists.”