Why is taking a crap made to feel like such an awkward social gesture??? I mean, we ALL have to drop the kids at the pool every day, if we're lucky. It is an element of God-given body waste removal that is a necessity to live. It is not pleasant, it does not smell like a bouquet of roses, plain and simple--shit happens. So why is it always such a public taboo?!! And why can't people recognize your imminent need for privacy when aforementioned launch needs to happen?....
I experienced a terribly uncomfortable moment the other day involving a poo-mergency. Though my preferred place to take care of business like this is at my own home, I happened to be en route to the gym and knew once I swiped my membership card at the door, I needed to high tail it to the john. Upon exiting my car, I encountered my instructor for the class I was taking in 45 minutes also heading in. I tried to slow my pace as to avoid her but she spotted me. Damn. She is very friendly and chatty to the degree of a Capuchin monkey on crystal meth. I knew my shit-tastic adventure would have to be put on hold for a bit. I don't know if she noticed the beads of sweat glistening on my upper lip and the gurgling of my spastic colon but it was not enough to deter her from her banter. We walked side by side towards the lockers, her with a skip in her step from eating her breakfast of flax and crack-flavored corn flakes, and me with clenched butt cheeks and a skitterish shuffle. FINALLY she veered off towards the employee entrance and I to the women's locker room. As I tossed my junk into the locker, lo and behold, there she fucking was AGAIN!!! I was in such awe that I was barely speaking and she took this cue to go into the bathroom to assumably pee. She came out, resumed her conversation with me. Sigh. I wandered as fake-leisurely as I could over to check out stall availability. Jackpot! All clear. I ceased conversation and proceeded to violate the hell out of that poor stall. I needed a Hazmat suit and about 6 Yankee candles. I flushed, was ready to abandon scene, opened my stall door, and who was waiting outside my stall, CRACK PIPE CARDIO TEACHER!!!! Of ALL the stalls she had to go into, why in God's name did she insist on following my pipe-laying gig?? And didn't she just pee like 10 seconds ago? I ran like a bat out of hell and headed upstairs. There was no possible way to avoid what happened, of course she knew it was me who made her gag reflexes kick in. I'm surprised she did not approach me privately and ask if I was sick...
I stood in line with my other fitness buff friends waiting for the studio to open. The instructor normally takes this time to chat with everyone in line, ask them how their week has been going, see if they have any questions about the class. Her Close Encounter of the Turd Kind with me had rendered me a social pariah. No eye contact was made, no acknowledgement I was attending her class, I might as well have been a cardboard Jared sign at Subway--she was not going to go there. Throughout the entire class when she is a Mexican jumping bean (who can lift a shit pot of weight, might I add) she did not ONCE glance my way. Should I have been ashamed of my bathroom needs? Should I have been annoyed that out of 4 other open stalls she chose the one clearly recently annihilated by someone?? Doesn't she ever have to take a crap?? I have since seen this instructor, eye contact has resumed, chattiness back to normal. But I know that forever etched in her mind and most likely her sinuses will be the haunting memory of my Dysentery Shit that fatal morning.
There is a handful of other gym poppers I recognize by their sneakers. I know them every single day by the way their feet are sprawled out sideways, pants fully dropped to the floor in pools around their ankles, that recognizable spinning on the toilet paper roll as it cascades ripples and ribbons of sheets to wad and wipe with. I typically make it as mission now to ONLY pee so I sense the awkward silence as they sit in the stall next to me, waiting for me to flush to cover the ricochet of their after splash. It is not the optimum place to have to do this. We would all much rather be at home, with nobody else there, no phone ringing, no dog whining to go out, just you, the toilet, plenty of TP, and perhaps a good cool cloth to douse your brow as your exertion plays out. Even an assortment of magazines make as pleasant of an experience as humanly possible . No matter how you try to disguise it and make it incognito, you are taking a shit at the gym.
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