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The Poop Diaries: Heidi

I have a lot of talents, some of which are far more impressive than others.

Not so impressive: I’m double jointed in my thumbs so I can put them completely behind my index finger knuckles.

Impressive: Ability to ask the right questions to get people to share with me embarrassing stories that would otherwise go with them to the grave. Out of all of them, this is one I rank as a top two talent. I’ll tell you why…

Everyone has an embarrassing poop story. These stories are typically mortifying for those involved but are seriously the most. hilarious. stories. ever. and I have an uncanny ability to get people (some who know me well, others who hardly know me at all) to share these with me. Don’t get me wrong – poop isn’t like a favorite topic of conversation in general, but embarrassing poop stories are something I like. A lot. You are forewarned that if you and I ever share a cocktail there is a 97.9% chance I’m getting your story. And trust me when I tell you, I don’t forget these stories, no matter how much I’ve had to drink.

Today I’m going to share with you one of the very best stories I’ve uncovered to date. And because I love this person dearly, I am absolutely changing her name to protect the guilty because if this was me I would never, ever share this story with anyone, so I feel extremely fortunate that I managed to get this out of her. Further proof that this is one of my greatest talents.

My friend Heidi had been dating Harold for about six months and she had never farted in front of him. Apparently Harold believed that she just didn’t fart and I’m sure he thought he’d won the girlfriend lottery (non-farter aside, he really did win with her). She’d hold them in until she was about to explode, just to keep Harold from knowing her awful truth. This was working well for her (as well as it can when you think you might die from holding in farts) so they planned their first vacation as a couple: a glorious seven day cruise.

They spent seven days on a cruise ship, eating their asses off, drinking every day and living in extremely tight quarters. There was no privacy. Harold was the most attentive he’d ever been so when Heidi would attempt to sneak back to the room so she could finally poop in peace, Harold would walk her back, like a true gentleman. Seven days, people. Seven long days without a chance to poop. She’s seriously lucky she didn’t die because I’m pretty sure I would have. And honestly, I think she probably qualifies for a Genius Book of World Records because who can hold it that long?

When the cruise is over they have an 8 hour drive back home and Heidi doesn’t feel good. She’s suffering horribly from seven days without going to the bathroom because Harold has some gentleman thing to prove and won’t give her 10 flipping minutes alone. They’re about four hours into the drive home when Heidi knows she’s in a desperate situation and needs a gas station, STAT. But they’re in the middle of nowhere so unfortunately there isn’t a gas station anywhere. Now me, I would have found a tree or a bush because desperate times call for desperate measures, but not my prim and proper friend. Completely out of the question for her.

Heidi is sweating and her stomach is doing horrible things and making sounds she never knew possible. She’s in pain but she refuses to let Harold know that she really needs to go #2 because that’d just be embarrassing, right? She’s got her game face on and trying play off the fact she’s about to die. (This is not a move I recommend to anyone, no matter how hard you are trying to impress the person you are dating.) Harold picks this drive, this moment of absolute distress, to share a really funny story with her and she begins to laugh her ass off. And as she’s laughing harder than she’s ever laughed before it happens.

She shits her pants.

Shit that she’s been holding in for the last week. After eating ridiculous meals and drinking even more ridiculous amounts of alcohol. Seven days of festering shit.

And she can’t stop it. Her tears of laughter are now tears of humiliation.

It takes approximately 13 seconds for the smell to hit Harold.

“What. The. FUCK. Is. That. SMELL???”

“Um… Well… I just shit my pants.”

“What do you mean you just shit your pants?”

“I didn’t want to poop around you so I haven’t gone since before we left. I think I might be dying, Harold. I need a bathroom.” As if that wasn’t completely obvious to him now.

And this is how the worlds worst 30 minutes ever spent in a car began. Windows down, Heidi crying, Harold bitching about the smell and the fact she has shit all over his new truck while he holds his head out the window, gagging. Once they finally find a gas station, Heidi asked begs Harold to walk behind her to help cover her shit ass but he refuses.

“Woman, you smell like shit and I just spent 30 minutes in the car with you. I’m staying right here. Take your shit ass inside and clean up.” Clearly one shit is all it takes for Harold to give up the gentleman act crap. He had been duped and was not pleased to learn otherwise…especially like this.

So Heidi walked the most horrific walk of shame known to man and took her shit ass to the bathroom where she proceeded to clean herself up, the best one can in a public bathroom, and throw away her clothes.

She proceeded to spend the rest of the drive wondering if she would ever hear from Harold again, all while he talked about her “incident” and she relived the humiliation over and over and over again.

The great news is Harold was able to see past the fact that she shit herself all over his new truck, accepted that she was just like every other human being alive and one day he finally asked her to marry him. The bad news is that it took approximately 2.5 cocktails and I was able to get the story out of them as if I was asking how he proposed. I’m not kidding when I tell you that no matter what you think you’ll be telling me your poop story before you realize what is going on. It’s a gift.

When you are considering whether or not you are really in love, ask yourself this: if my significant other were to shit all over my new vehicle would I ever be able to move past it?

Personally, I ever shit all over someone’s car I’d never want to see them, or their car, ever again.

But if your answer is yes then you know you have something really special so go ahead and ask them to marry you.

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