If you’ve experienced sweaty palms, goosebumps, chills, and a churning stomach all at the same time then chances are, you’ve tried holding your bowels while in a public place.
Come on, there’s no shame in admitting it. True, the memory of controlling Number 2 is something you’d very much bury in the deep recesses of your mind but it happens to everyone. If it hasn’t happened to you yet, don’t worry, it will. The experience will start with a minor urge to poop but will remain bearable, depending on what you’ve had for lunch. It’ll then progress to a throbbing pain in the stomach and a pressure somewhere in your body which you’re certain has nothing to do with tension headache. The throbbing will come and go (like labor pains), but there’ll come a point when the contractions are too closely-spaced. This is the dangerous part for here you run the risk of accidentally unleashing all that you are and all that you have. The pain is persistent and this time it’s coupled with heavy perspiration. Oddly enough, you don’t feel warm. Quite the opposite, you actually feel cold despite the turtle-necked shirt and corduroy jacket you’re wearing. If it weren’t for the long sleeves, your friends would’ve seen raised tiny hairs all over your arms. Speaking of friends, you’re currently not speaking to them as the slightest tap on the shoulder provokes you into having a major hyper-conniption fit. You’re not sure if they can hear the agitation building up within your stomach walls. You desperately want to fart, if only for a brief release from this sheer torture, but you can’t as you fear that you might not just emit gas but give birth to its “brown-haired twin” also. So you wait. Until something warm trickles down your pants and everyone in the room turns to stare at you: the person who just turned himself into a living embarrassment as well as a human pudding dispenser.
Or you could be lucky and find an empty restroom just in the nick of time. Slamming through one of the cubicles, you sit down on the throne almost praising a Higher Being as you grunt, squirt, and push your way through relief. Your legs fold and you occasionally grab/scratch on the walls while you simultaneously drop the bomb and regret the pasta carbonara which you washed down with milk earlier. Mom always taught you to share and right this moment, you wish you had. Suddenly, you hear footsteps. Oh crap, someone else is inside the comfort room and is patiently waiting outside the cubicle you’re using. Not even close to being done, you feign vomiting to indicate that you’re not leaving anytime soon. Mercifully, he/she takes the hint and hies off to the water closet on the next floor, leaving you to finish your job.
Finally, it’s all over. Reaching behind for the flush, you press it, only to realize that it’s broken. Oh well, you’re just going to have to leave a souvenir behind. Unfortunately, the bidet doesn’t work as well, nor is there any dipper in sight so you’ll have to make do with tissue knowing it’s gonna leave a skid mark on your undies and you ass will alternately itch and hurt like hell for the rest of the day.
As you open the door, another person enters the room and in that instant you apprehend the reality that you can’t deny to him/her that you were the most recent occupant of the defiled stall. So what do you do? The most natural thing, of course. Scrunching your face, you hurry past the ill-fated individual while muttering, “Ay grabe wag ka dito, ang dumi ng banyo. Tignan mo may nag-iwan pa dun sa cubicle!
It’s a universal truth. When you gotta go, you gotta go.