My Shitty

The worst poop of my life was when I had my tonsils taken out at the age of 28. The doctor said the recovery from this operation gets worse as people get older, and the doctor wasn’t wrong! I was told to take co-codamol and ibuprofen. Seriously not good after tonsil extraction! The co-codamol had me really spaced out and often sleeping in little shifts. I woke up roughly when it was time for more meds. I got myself into a nice little routine: Take meds, put film on, fall asleep for a little bit, then wake up for next med time, eat lots of toast, and repeat. I was so spaced that it took six days to realize that I hadn’t had a poo.

It was the contractions that first got my attention. I didn’t even need to poo but my bowel was trying anyway, and it was secreting some kind of mucus that kept leaking from my anus. I was back and forth from the throne with no success, and I got worried, so I Googled my symptoms. Trapped wind didn’t seem too bad, and I tried a lot of suggestions to expel said wind… to no avail. But I needed to know how bad my situation was, so…

I sat on the toilet and put a finger in there, just to see, and I felt something very solid. I checked co-codamol side effects online, and I discovered that constipation is very likely. I had my answer. Or so I thought.

I went back to the bathroom and tried to squeeze the thing out without any success for an hour and 40 minute. Then, I had an idea; I filled my bathroom cup/toothbrush holder with hot water and splashed myself in the hope of some kind of lubrication. After another 20 minutes, I considered running the bath for a water birth. It was four a.m., though, so I thought, “No, I’ll just push this thing out of me with all of my might.”

I tried my hardest, my whole body straining. I must have turned purple but I finally felt a movement. Unfortunately, I could also taste blood. The place where my tonsils had once been had erupted under the pressure. I sat there, spitting blood into the sink to my left, while an absolute cannon ball felt like it was slowly splitting me in half at the rear. After I finally passed it the first thing I did, even before I wiped, was to Google bleeding tonsils. Under instruction, I gargled with ice water until the bleeding stopped. I then went back to the toilet and tended to my aching a-hole.

I tried to flush, but there was no chance of that thing disappearing. I had to get in there and break it up with a Charlie Chaplin-style cane that I bought for a fancy dress party. I wish I still had my tonsil; any infection in there would be far more preferable to the ordeal that I went through – passing the worst poop of my life!

Poop Report

Is it OK to let my dog lick my anus after defecating? You wouldn’t believe the money I save on toilet paper. I’m asking in regards to my dog’s health.

Poop Report

My father just turned eighty-five and came to San Francisco for a surprise visit. He doesn’t look a day over seventy, but he is getting a little hunched over. Still, he golfs everyday. No shit. Nine holes and refuses to use a golf cart. It wouldn’t matter if he disinherited me because he will most certainly outlive me.

He is a whole other person when my eight-three year-old mom isn’t around, though. He reverts back to his childhood when he could say things like “fuckin’ asshole” and not have to apologize for two hours.

We were eating dinner at the Farallon Restaurant, this swanky fish place, when Pop announced he had to use the restroom. The seats at this place are sort of low and he needed a hand to get up, so I helped him up by grabbing him under the armpit. I might as well have pulled his finger, because a rather long but thankfully barely audible pooftie escaped his aging anus. He looked up at me with this ”I can do that kinda’ shit now” look on his face and I, not able to do that kinda shit, tried hard to hold back a belly laugh. I watched him waddle to the restroom and waited patiently for his return.

It was uneventful trip for him. I helped him back in his seat and returned my attention to a Glazed Lake Superior Walleye in some kinda’ sauce.

I had just put a piece of this delicacy into my mouth when out my pop announced, “Jesus Christ… I just shit a box!”

I almost spit thirty dollars worth of fish over the table to the couple holding hands seated across from us. That line and my knowing how constipation can feel, compounded by an eighty-five year-old ass, left me paralyzed with laughter. My pop has the same sardonic sense of humor as I do, and it was this fact that led to a conversation between us of poop stories that dated back to my childhood.

“Remember that vacation in Minnesota when your uncle Carl shit in the hood of his parka?”

“Dad… Stop,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. I was unable to catch my breath. I think the waiter must have thought I was choking on a fish bone.

Pop wouldn’t stop, though. Leaning over, he started again.

“Remember when Jim our neighbor burned his hand propping himself up behind the car on the muffler to take a dump? He couldn’t wipe his ass for a month!”

I almost had to stab my leg with my fork.

“Remember the time your sister tore open your ball bag pulling you off your child seat?” he asked me. The damned thing had a plastic nodule from the manufacturer still on it.

”And then, you told the doctor ‘My sister broke my fligger!’”

It was as if he was on the Tonight Show, and I think it was the most fun that we’d ever had. I was reminded why I love him so much.

He’s back home now… minding his manners… while I, on the other hand, have to remove everything from my house that’s square-shaped.

Poop Report

Does anyone else feel “unwiped” after a poo, even after using half a roll of toilet paper? I do, and when I pull my pants up I get this sensation like my undies are sticking to the inside of my anus. It’s so weird. A nd so gross.

I didn’t notice this too much until a few years ago. In fact, one time I had a really hard poo and my anus felt like it had flipped inside out a bit… like an outie belly button. Is there anyone else out there who has advice on what has happened to me?

Poop Report

I woke one morning expecting that I would get up and take my regular morning shit, to endure awful straining and screeching, until the crappy turd would come flying out of my ass with such force that I might feel as if I would fly off the toilet seat. Thinking that this morning would be the same, I was surprised. As I looked at the clock, my eyes widened; I completely forgot about my regular morning shits and I was late for school. I grabbed some dirty clothes off the table and rushed out of the house, and made it to school several minutes late. Luckily, though, we weren’t doing much that morning, so I got off fine, although things weren’t quite as happy on the inside.

Did I mention I will not shit at school no matter the repercussions? Did I mention I will not shit anywhere but home, no matter what happens? Well, maybe I’d better tell you why. I have very bad constipation problems, and I have since I was a young child, and my family always keeps a large stock of enemas and such next to my toilet. Also, our toilet has a bidet so I can
always clean off after I am done.

So this morning at school my brain was screaming “SHIT, SHIT!” I was afraid because I hadn’t taken my morning shit. It was still lingering in my bowels, challenging me. And, since I absolutely would not shit at school, I would not be able to unveil the monster until I got home. I went through the day painfully, with stomach cramps and an anus that tightened every time I thought about it, that was tightening because I had a shit that needed to take a stand. I dreaded coming home, but I knew I would eventually have to.

When I arrived home I immediately jumped to the bathroom, wanting to get the event over with as soon as I could. I sat on the toilet and gave myself a quick enema, mindful of holding in the water for as long as I possibly could; I knew I would need it this time. Then, it began. My Ass-Ripper Turd started to emerge as I pushed, holding the sides of the toilet, desperately hoping that the pain would be less than what it had to be. I swear I could hear the giant shit tear my ass apart, and I just had to sit there, shitting this thing out. I felt like I could be having a baby by the size of it.

I pushed harder, screeching as I did so, and sobbed when the contraction came to an end. Then there came a point where no matter
how hard I pushed, the last quarter of it would not escape to the toilet. I
squeezed and squeezed, but the hideous thing wouldn’t budge. Luckily, my parents keep latex gloves beside the toilet, so I grabbed two and snapped them on like a doctor preparing for surgery — or in this case on the brown monster hanging from my ass. I stuck a gloved hand below my hardened shit and prepared myself for what I was about to do, and then I grabbed the lump in my hand. At the same time as I did so I squeezed as hard as I could and I pulled it down. The monster unloaded itself from my ass and eventually it landed — or rather crashed — into the toilet with a considerable splash. I looked down to see the work that my ass had done. I have to admit, I was quite proud. In the bowl lay a turd that was at least four inches wide and a gargantuan foot long. I really wish I would have taken a picture, but I was too traumatized. My ass hurt like hell, and there was blood spouting from it all over the toilet.

I took my trusty bidet in hand and whooshed it over my ass a few time on full power. Then, using the specially built in vacuum flush on my toilet, I watched the Ass-Ripper leave and waved a little goodbye to the fucker. I learned from this experience, and to this day I wake up one hour earlier to make sure I always have enough time for my morning shit.

Poop Report